Jedi Genocide
by Viviane Renard
Summary: Anakin wins the duel against ObiWan on Mustafar. Because of this, events are altered and lives changed. The Jedi are nearly extinct as an unrelenting Empire hunts them down. But for ObiWan, there is more to life than just surviving. AU, slash AnakinObiWan
1. Death and Birth

**Reposted 8-16-05:** I'd like to thank **Princess Stormtrooper** for her comments. I added a few sentences here and there to try to help fix things.

Started 6-8-05 at 9:23am… (You'll find the date that I finished this when I post the last chapter)

I've actually already finished this fic, and now all I have to do is edit and post it. I'll try to post regularly, probably once a week on Saturdays, or sometime during the weekend.

Since this is AU, I want to clarify some things. Everything that happened in Episode I and II also happened in my fic. And all the events leading up to the 12-minute lightsaber duel between Anakin and Obi-Wan in Episode III should also be considered fact. My fic picks up where Padmé is going to Mustafar to meet Anakin, and from there on out it's AU, and events are my own idea and creation. With the occasional borrowed idea from the other Star Wars episodes.

**Warnings: **Rated **PG-13** (T) for some rude language, suggestive themes, yaoi/slash/homosexuality, and death

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Wars in any way. Those rights belong to **George Lucas**, who invented Star Wars and the six original episodes. As I am not making a profit from writing this fic, I am doing nothing wrong with Star Wars. They should be happy that I'm giving them free promotion. ;) Also, I have borrowed characters, planets, and/or situations from Rogue Planet by **Greg Bear** and the _Jedi Quest_ books from the children series created by **Jude Watson**.

**Writer's Block:** This is a little something that I've made up myself. Since this is the first time I'm putting it in any story, let me explain a little bit about its purpose, as well as the name. Writer blocks are usually considered horrible things, the bane of a writer's existence. Well, I decided to create a _block_ of writing committed to _writers_ that was less painful. ;) In here I hope to highlight wonderful fics that others have written, as well as anything else I find inspiring that can help stave off writers block. This is my way of giving back to the writing community, and to try to put lights on some fics that deserve recognition. Please review to the fics I suggest: their writing is too lovely to not do so!

**Writer's Block (actual deal this time):** A Simple Change by **Petite Doll**. This is a Star Wars fic that is fourteen chapters long and completed (always a good thing. ;) ). As it says in the beginning summary, it is rated PG-13 and is a "pre-slash" fic; the two stories leading after it will contain slash (but this one doesn't). I love Doll's writing style, and she captures Obi-Wan and Anakin's conflicting nature perfectly. There's some interesting turns in the plot, and I like seeing how Anakin and Obi-Wan's friendship develops and changes as their situations change. It's a good read for any Star Wars fan. (But especially for those obsessed with Anakin/Obi-Wan as I am. XD)

I'd love you to death if you reviewed. I want feedback on my writing. What do you think of my writing style? Too many commas, perfectly fine, too wordy? Did I do fine or do I need work with the plotting, characterization, symbolization, or foreshadowing? If you find any grammar or spelling mistakes, please tell me and I'll fix them and repost the chapter, adding a special thanks to you at the top of the chapter. I want to better my writing, and your advice and reviews (and personal opinions) can do that.

**Page amount:** 4 (just to let you know, word count and page amount only count for the story, not for my author notes)

**Word Count: **3,195

Started on 6-8-05 (I saw Star Wars Episode III yesterday), and finished 6-12-05 (I got four teeth pulled…ouch x.x)

Listening to: silence…beautiful, no? ;)

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter One**: Death and Birth_

Molten lava flowed on the moon Mustafar, giving the solitary building a harsh, bleeding glow. Padmé steered the ship roughly, trying to fight back tears. The baby inside her kicked once, twice, reminding her of its loving existence. Anakin couldn't be evil…Obi-Wan was wrong. He had to be wrong—Anakin couldn't have created something so wonderful if he was evil. The ship landed with a groan and Padmé rushed out of it. She stared fearfully at the bleak, black building. Even though she wished vehemently not to enter that sinister structure, she started to walk towards it, instinctively holding her stomach protectively.

Before she had to enter that dreaded building, she saw Anakin. Relief—thank god she didn't have to enter that building—and rushing into Anakin's arms. He swept her up in a tight hug.

"Ani, Ani, I was so worried about you," She cried out. She hugged him tightly, trying to fight back tears. She knew she was being overemotional, but the pregnancy had affected her in so many ways beyond the physical.

"Shh…" Anakin whispered soothingly, "It's all right. I'm fine, we're fine, the baby's fine." He buried his head in her curly brown hair and breathed in the fresh scent, so unlike the sulfur and smog that clung to his lungs. This whole world was one deathtrap, a lung-cancer in itself. Anakin gazed over Padmé's shoulder to watch a bubble of lava spluttered up before popping with a sick, oozing sensation. He would be thankful when they left this inferno.

"Obi-Wan—"

Anakin cut Padmé off before she could say anything else. "Obi-Wan was with you?" Jealousy coursed through his veins—and fear. Obi-Wan had been with Padmé in his vision, that nightmare where Padmé died. He didn't want Obi-Wan to ever be by Padmé. That way, the vision could not become truth. He would change it; he had to. Anakin clutched Padmé's shoulders tightly. "Is he with you now?"

"No—but that's not the point!" Padmé said in a surge of emotion. "The point is that he told me you had gone to the Dark Side—killed children—killed innocent _people_!" Her grip on Anakin loosened, until she dropped her arms entirely to encircle her belly, to shelter it. She gazed at Anakin in despair. There was something wrong in his eyes, but it couldn't be true… "It's not true, is it? You can't be on the Dark Side—think of our child—"

"I _am_ thinking about our child!" Anakin yelled. "The whole reason I've gone to the Dark Side is to protect you. I can learn how to stop death. You don't have to die in childbirth. I can alter the future, fight these premonitions of death."

With Anakin's confession, Padmé paled. "I—I can't believe you. How could you think that this will help anything? Let nature take its course… I won't die during childbirth, Ani. Please, come back with me. We'll find Obi-Wan and—"

"Obi-Wan," Anakin hissed out. "Obi-Wan was with you when you were dying! He can't save you. The Light Side can't save you. Only I can! And I need _power_ to do that. I have to become stronger…" His metal fist clenched.

"No, Ani, that's not true." Tears leaked down her face silently, evaporating in the intense heat and leaving crusts of salt behind. "Power alone won't save anything. You need _love_. Only the Light Side can give you that. Come back with me, Ani," she pleaded desperately, "Come back, please. We can beg the Jedi Council for forgiveness—"

"There is no more Jedi Council," Anakin said in a dead tone. "There are no more Jedi. I killed them. I killed them all."—he stared down at his hands—"Even the younglings." He gazed into Padmé's horrified eyes. He was searching for something, seeking something, asking something.

But Padmé couldn't decipher his silent plea. She took a step back from him, clutching her stomach. It could have been _their_ child that he had killed. "Obi-Wan was right. You're—you're not Anakin!" Anakin silently took a step towards her, his hand outstretch. "Just stay back and leave my child alone!" Padmé shrieked out between sobs. "Obi-Wan—"

Something snapped inside of Anakin. His outstretch hand became a fist, and Padmé slowly started to gasp. Her quivers from sobbing became gasps for air. Her hands left her stomach to claw at her throat. She managed a rusty "Ani" before becoming completely mute. Her eyes pleaded silently, love and fear and disbelief combating each other within her brown irises.

At his name, Anakin felt his fist loosen. Padmé dropped to the ground with a jarring _thud_. Worried, he began to run towards her motionless figure. However, he felt a second presence, and this made him whirl around. "_You_!" he yelled out to the silhouette standing at the ship's exit ramp. He gestured angrily at Padmé's prone form. "Look what you've made me do!" His heart was breaking—first Padmé turned from him, now Obi-Wan.

"I didn't do anything, Anakin," Obi-Wan said quietly. "You must learn to take responsibility for your actions."

Anakin felt anger welling up in him. "Stop lecturing me!" He yelled. "You're always lecturing me, nagging, nitpicking, searching for the slightest fault. Why can't you be happy with what I do? I surpass you in strength, I've learned everything that you have to teach, and _still_ you act so superior to me! I'm not an inferior person to you!" Pipes behind him started to groan, expelling hissing streams of gas as they fractured.

"Anakin…you may have strength, but you lack greatly in emotional control. Even now, you cannot control your emotions. Which means that you cannot control the Force. I'm not trying to make you feel inferior—I'm trying to teach you. You betrayed us all…the Jedi Order and the Force and those who loved you by turning to the Dark Side!" Obi-Wan's voice cracked with anger and regret, and he had to stop. He then said softly, persuasively, "But you can still make amends—"

"Betrayed?" Anakin said tightly. The pipes shrieked even louder. "_I_ betrayed you? No—_you_ have betrayed me," Anakin spat out the word. "You have turned Padmé against me. Like always, you question my judgment. You think I can't control this power! I can and I will—I'll become a greater Jedi than you ever were! I'll become a _Sith_!" Anakin watched Obi-Wan warily. "Have you come to kill me?" He still held lingering feelings of affection for Obi-Wan, and didn't wish to have to fight him.

Obi-Wan remained silent.

Anakin's affection was tainted by his anger. He asked more harshly, "Have you come to kill me?"

"I have come to right our wrongs," Obi-Wan said at last, lighting up his blue blade.

Anakin activated his own blue lightsaber. "The wrong you have done is choosing to oppose me." He lunged at Obi-Wan, viciously attacking his former friend and master. Their blades whirled and slashed; sending sparks each time their moves were parried. Anakin slashed where Obi-Wan's stomach was; Obi-Wan flipped backward to avoid the lethal swing. Obi-Wan was slowly forced to give ground under the savagery of Anakin's attacks. The Jedi parried every slice, every hack, every could-be fatal blow. He kept himself calm, letting the Force flow through him. He did the Force's bidding; it would tell him the right moment to strike back.

Anakin was an inferno of power. He felt raw strength in every slash he made. His power fed off itself, growing to enormous heights. It bubbled up in his body, wanting to be let out. It leaked into his eyes; they burned pleasantly with the fires of Hell. Obi-Wan was helpless; Anakin knew this. His old master couldn't even fight back…he was forced to forever dodge and block Anakin's unrelenting lightsaber. He had complete control of the situation—he would show his former Master that he _was_ better than him—that _he_ was the stronger one. Wanting to goad, he expelled some of the Force raging in his body, throwing Obi-Wan back a few feet.

Anakin stood proudly, his blue lightsaber contrasting harshly with the fire on Mustafar and in his eyes. "Have you had enough, Obi-Wan? Have you finally opened your eyes to see that _I_ have the true power?"

Obi-Wan panted slightly. His body was worn, but his mind was still fresh and clear. He straightened. "I have finally opened my eyes, yes," Obi-Wan said sadly. Anakin's red eyes burned brightly at him, two pinpoints of anger.

Anakin snarled. "Stop giving me those decrepit, ciphered answers!" Anakin charged at Obi-Wan once more. His lightsaber collided with Obi-Wan's, and sparks sputtered between the friction. Anakin pushed all of his weight into their locked lightsabers, forcing Obi-Wan to either step back or lose his balance. Obi-Wan stepped back. Anakin grinned wickedly at Obi-Wan, sensing victory near.

The Force finally sprung to life in Obi-Wan: he knew this was the moment to act. As a last moment thought, he started to say, "I am sorry, Anakin" as he swung his lightsaber at Anakin's unprotected head.

He fell to the ground, gasping in pain.

Obi-Wan stared down in disbelief at his severed legs.

Anakin stood over Obi-Wan, tossing his lightsaber from hand to hand in a casual manner. The blue light jumped back and forth, lighting and shadowing Anakin's face gruesomely. With a flick of his wrist, Obi-Wan's lightsaber went off the edge of the ship's docking platform and into the hungry lava below. Anakin stared at Obi-Wan's marred legs with detachment; both had been cut off at mid thigh-length. It reminded him of his own severed limb; a phantom pain ran through his mechanical joints where his real arm should have been.

Obi-Wan resigned himself to his fate. He had failed in his teachings to Anakin, and he had failed in correcting those failures. He only hoped that death would right his wrongs when he returned his spirit to the Force. Obi-Wan didn't beg for his life, he didn't pray. He closed his eyes. He did not want to have to gaze into Anakin's garish red eyes as Anakin killed him. His last vision would be a memory of better times.

Anakin stopped tossing his lightsaber as Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He frowned, weapon in hand. Obi-Wan _still_ wouldn't acknowledge his superiority. Obi-Wan always turned a blind eye whenever Anakin did anything of true significance. Anakin brought his lightsaber up, preparing to behead Obi-Wan in one single motion—when he stopped.

The heat of battle having left him when faced with Obi-Wan's neutrality, thoughts now made their way into his head. Realization dawned on him. He didn't want to kill Obi-Wan, just as he hadn't wanted to kill Padmé. He just wanted to prove his greatness to them. Knowing that emotion was the foundation of the Dark Side, Anakin followed his. Instead of killing Obi-Wan, he lifted his mutilated body and carried him to the ship. He laid him down on one of the beds in the ship's medical room—it was a small and inadequately equipped room, but it would do for now—and went back to get Padmé. Once they were both on the ship and in the medical room, Anakin put a salve on Obi-Wan's burned stumps. The lightsaber had instantly cauterized the wounds, so no blood had been lost or infections gained. The only real damage Obi-Wan suffered from was burnt skin and the two lost limbs. Padmé herself was perfectly fine; she was probably still out because the baby exhausted her.

Obi-Wan bit back a hiss of pain as Anakin applied the burn salve to his wounds. He was astonished—he was still alive. Maybe, in spite of everything, there was still hope for Anakin. He prayed there was. "Why—" he was forced to stop as another burst of pain surged through him. "Why did you spare me?"

Anakin was silent for a minute, collecting his thoughts. "I want to prove to you that I _am_ better. I don't want to kill you—at least, not now. But if you ever hurt Padmé—" Anakin halted for a moment to regain his composure. "You were my Master, and my friend. A bond like that cannot be easily destroyed. You and Padmé are all that I have left—if I lost both of you—" Anakin abruptly stopped again, and this time he didn't pick up where he left off.

Obi-Wan sighed before wincing; Anakin was wrapping his stumps, and the bandaging hurt his burnt skin. "Anakin…why have you done all this, then? You lost Padmé and myself when you joined the Dark Side."

"No, I haven't," Anakin said harshly. "I'll make you see that I'm right. I've done all this to save Padmé. I can save her life with this power."

"Power is gained only for the sake of power. You lie to yourself in thinking otherwise; only love could save Padmé. Now, I fear that you have tainted your love, just as you have your soul," Obi-Wan said sadly. He turned his head away from Anakin.

Anakin clenched his fists, trying to make the shaking stop. The slight shriek of metal grinding on metal sounded as his mechanic joints protested the abnormal amount of pressure. He forced himself to relax his grip. Holding a needle, Anakin explained calmly, in a tightly controlled voice, "This serum will help your body heal, but you'll most likely feel sleepy, as all your energy will be directed towards aiding the cells damaged in your body. This is the best that I can do until we can get you to a proper medical center and into a bacta tank." Anakin injected the serum into Obi-Wan's left stump, using a little more force than necessary. Obi-Wan bore his agony in silence.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to fly this ship back to Coruscant. There you can get better medical attention. I myself must be there for an emergency meeting of the Republic Senate. I will be a witness to the grand reformation of the Galactic Republic." Pride and anticipation colored Anakin's voice.

Obi-Wan lifted his head, using a great deal more energy and effort than he normally would. Already the serum was affecting his body and dulling his mind. "You mean to say when the Republic—and with it democracy—dies."

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan for a long moment. "Yes, I do. Democracy is a failure for governmental purposes. Quick, decisive actions are never reached, and people suffer because of that! We have been given the chance to right this wrong, and I won't let anything get in my way."

" 'We'?" Obi-Wan asked, letting his head sink down onto the pillow. It was too heavy to hold up.

"Chancellor Palpatine and myself."

Obi-Wan said nothing more. He turned his head away from Anakin and stared at the harsh white walls of the room. He was too tired to do anything else. Defeat weighed heavy in his soul.

Anakin was about to leave when Padmé groaned in her unconscious state. Anakin rushed over to her bed and grabbed one of her hands. "Padmé! You're all right!" he said joyfully. But quickly his smile turned into a frown. He could feel an irregularity with the Force lying dormant (as it did in most life forms) in Padmé's body, and it brought a sense of dread to him. He quickly called over the ship's medical droid. "Do something!" he commanded it harshly, trying to hide his fear.

The droid examined her body, taking far too long in Anakin's mind. Finally, it said in its metallic voice, "She has gone into labor. In her state of unconsciousness, she cannot fully expel the two babies."

"Padmé!" He cupped her two hands in his; he was too worried about his wife to even be amazed that Padmé was carrying twins. "Padmé, you have to wake up." He pushed some of his Force into her body, giving her enough energy to wake up. She did so groggily, before the pain hit her; at that point, she instantly became awake. Sweat poured down her face and she screamed. "It's all right," Anakin said smoothly, wiping a drenched lock of hair out of her face. "I'm right here. You just have to push your babies out, okay, honey? You can do this."

Padmé nodded, attempting to smile, and squeezed Anakin's left, flesh hand tightly until his hand turned white around the edges of her fingers and deep red everywhere else. The droid, in its cold and mechanical way, helped Padmé give birth to her twins: a baby boy and girl. Anakin held his twins in his arms joyously, an enormous smile on his face. He showed them to his wife, who smiled wanly. "What should we name them?" he asked her softly.

"L-Luke and Leia," Padmé said in a gasping breath.

"Those are wonderful names. I'm so proud of you, Padmé," Anakin said happily. "We did it, we have children…I love you so much." Padmé smiled at him, and Anakin felt the same wrongness creeping back again; every second he felt Padmé's life force dim. Quickly he set their babies down on Obi-Wan's infirmary bed, and took Padmé's hands. "Hold on," he said desperately, "please hold on, Padmé." He sent a shock of Force through her body, but it was met with resistance; his power simply slid off her soul. Desperately he tried to pour more energy into her, to give his life to her. The more he struggled to hold onto her, the farther away her spirit went.

Padmé smiled up at him, her hand lifting as if to caress his cheek.

The hand fell, the smile fell, and Anakin felt as if his soul had plummeted out of his body.

He dropped her still-warm hand and backed away. He ran into the droid and tripped until his back hit the wall. He slid down it and covered his face with his arms. He cried great, large, heaving sobs. Padmé was dead. There was nothing left, there was no hope, there was no point to living—

He heard the babies cry, screaming for their mother. He lifted his head from his arms, a dazed look in his eyes as he searched the room for the noise. His gaze fell upon the two plump little beings that were his children, and at Obi-Wan's prone form which seemed to protect and envelope the children. As the droid moved to pick up the children, responding to the babies' cries as it was programmed to, Anakin sent out a blast of Force to knock it aside. He staggered to his feet, still feeling numb, and hurried to the bed containing Obi-Wan and his children.

The droid voiced mechanically, "Sir, I must feed and wash the babies—"

Anakin cut off the droid harshly. "I shall do that myself." He took one last long, lingering look at Padmé's dead body. Then he squashed down the ache in his heart and turned his gaze away, onto the three living beings by his side.

He had a new family to take care of now.


	2. Identity

**Reposted 8-19-05: **Thank you, **Darkness Rising** (otherwise known by the much more cute and lovable name Ash-chan ;) ) for finding my spelling mistake. But 'rouge' is such a pretty word, eh? It's all that French getting to my head, lol. XD Je sais que je suis follie. (Correct way to write it?) Anyways…that just means 'I know that I'm crazy,' if I wrote it properly. French is fun to speak and write, but it doesn't exactly belong in an English fic, now does it? Anywho, huggles to friend Ash-chan, who reads this even though she's not a big Star Wars fan. (Which I plan on changing someday…someday soon. -cues maniacal laughter in the distance-)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block: **Once again, it's another story written by **Petite Doll**. I just love her writing so much that I can't help but feature more than one fic. ;) This story is the sequel to A Simple Change, and it is called What Comes of It. It's darker and contains slash (hence the rating R). It's a completed Darth Vader/Obi-Wan fic. This AU is set after RotS. Petite Doll does a wonderful job with characterization, and her writing is vivid. We get to travel down Vader's dark path and see how the evil inside has affected him. And while you're morbidly fascinated by the monster he's become, you can't help but hold on to the faint glimmer of hope that Obi-Wan can change him. The wondering and suspense is part of What Comes of It's allure.

As you may have noted, I don't post author notes at the end of my writing. I prefer that the actual story is the last thing you read and think about because…well…that's the important part. So I want you to remember it the most. :) So if I have any comments about a chapter, I'll post them in the _next_ chapter's author notes. Think of it as my way of refreshing your memory. Well, I don't really have any comments for chapter one…it was really just a chapter to set up all everything…I hope it wasn't too boring. :( I was a bit worried about that…

I also want to warn you that I love **foreshadowing, irony, and symbolism**. You might find that the most important parts of my fic are not written down, but only alluded to. ;) Maybe I'm just mad, and is the only person who can see the hints, but perhaps you'll find something yourself.

I'd like to thank all those who reviewed. Each and every one of them made me feel very happy and good inside. I hope that you continue reading and enjoying my story. :) Once again, I'd like to mention that if you find any mistakes, please tell me. Oh, and if you think you see any of the foreshadowing, irony, or symbolism, I'd love it if you told me what it is and what you think it means. I love hearing the impressions people get from my story. It also makes it so that I can see if I've conveyed what's in my mind, or if other people get entirely different ideas. Who knows, perhaps your ideas are better than the ones I thought up; it's very probable. ;)

**Page Amount: **6

**Word Count:** 4,425

Written 6-12-05

Listening to: silence

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Two**: Identity_

_Four standard Coruscanti years later_

Two children entered an office. They had been squabbling about something, which had apparently led to shoving if the rumples in their clothes meant anything. The little boy hovered by the door as the girl walked boldly towards her father's workspace. However, her footsteps grew more cautious as she neared her destination.

"Daddy?" The small girl asked hesitantly, standing by her father's desk. Her father lifted his head up and hummed affirmatively. "Who's our mother?"

Anakin smiled and reached over to tug affectionately on one of Leia's long brown braids. "We've been over this time after time, Leia. Obi-Wan's your mother."

Leia scrunched up her nose and batted away her father's hand. "Daaaddy, you know I'm too old for you to play with my hair," she whined childishly. "And besides, that's not possible! Obi-Wan's a _guy_." It was infallible logic in her mind.

"Stranger things have happened with the Force," Anakin explained patiently with a wise smile. "I never had a father, myself. You should be thankful that you have a mother and a father, Leia, even if it's not the customary type of family. You need to learn to adapt to odd situations and make the best of them."

"See?" The little boy said as, embolden by being right, he yanked his sister's braid. "I _was_ right. Why do you always have to stick your big nose everywhere?" Making a face at his sister, he ran out of the room with Leia hot on his heels, yelling about how he was going to 'get it.'

Anakin hollered to their retreating backs, "I want you two to find Threepio and return home, all right? You better not give him too hard of a time, or I'll hear about it later!"

"Okay, okay, Daddy, you don't have to lecture us!"—she rolled her eyes—"We'll find him where we ditched him and tell him that you said he had to take us home," she yelled back from the hallway. Luke said a soft goodbye that was barely audible, and Anakin had to strain to hear him. He heard the muffled sound of their feet pounding away; they were running again, despite the fact that every day he let them come to work with him he told them to _walk_.

He chuckled at his children's antics and returned to reading the report in front of him. He allowed a tiny bit of satisfaction and self-congratulatory to wash over him. It had taken four long years to complete his empire, but it was well worth it. He had steadied and built it up, until his domain had gained the strong foundation that it needed to resist any attacks made against it. Now, it was nearly invisible; a far cry from its struggling beginning.

It had been a difficult journey, but Anakin was finally satisfied with what he had. The Galactic Republic had been torn down, replaced by the Galactic Empire. The Jedi Council and Order had been abolished, and what was left of the Temple was easily within his grasp where he could keep a close eye on it. Any planets that had previously objected to the Empire's rule had been wiped out or negotiated with. Most of the rogue resistance groups had been annihilated, and the few left could hardly be called 'resistances.' They constituted only of a few washed-out stragglers who were unwilling to accept the death of democracy yet equally unwilling to do more than grumble and complain. The Imperial Navy was under his command, as well as much of the Imperial Senate through influence and fear. Now that he held a completed empire within his hands, he felt that he could finally do something with it. Improve it.

The door to his office swung open again, but this time the person entering was not a welcomed distraction, as his two children had been. This person was not welcomed at all.

Palpatine walked into Anakin's office with slow, laborious movements. Age and extended use of the Dark Force were whittling away what health the Emperor still had. He was more corpse than man, sustained only through pure determination and willpower.

Anakin stood and walked towards his master, bowing down to him in a respecting but stiff manner. There had been disagreements between them over the last few years, and that rift had slowly widened. It had become a distance that he neither wished to nor could cross. "Master," Anakin said respectfully, "How may I be of service to you?"

"I'm merely here to check up on you, Lord Vader. I do not mean to interrupt your work," Palpatine said smoothly. Although his physical body was slowly decaying with age, his mind was not, and his speech was as flawless and pristine as ever. "I trust that the last of the resistance has crumbled?" Anakin nodded, holding his hands behind his back, as any well-mannered subordinate would do when facing superiors.

"Good, good." Palpatine wheezed a chuckle. "I should return to the Conference Room, then. It is best to reassure the planets under the Empire's control that we have dealt with the traitors, and that they no longer need to fear attacks from the barbarous renegades. I am sure that they will be comforted by this joyous news, and awed at the might of the Empire. Now that the galaxy is no longer disrupted by internal feuding, perhaps we can even expand our reach…" Palpatine rasped out another laugh. Before departing, he graced Anakin with a compliment, "I am proud of your accomplishments, Lord Vader…and I expect to see your outstanding work continue."

Anakin smiled tightly and bowed as Palpatine left.

It took a great amount of effort to make his clenched fists relax. The way Palpatine acted…it made uncontrollable anger boil in his veins. Palpatine was not the one who did all the unscrupulous work needed to form this empire…he sat on his fortified throne and reaped the toils of others, acting the ever-gracious ruler as he robbed his subjects blind. He had no right to be called 'emperor.' Anakin sneered at the thought of that, at the thought of Palpatine rightfully deserving _any_ title.

His only power was manipulation, of playing master to marionettes. But Anakin was aware of Palpatine's games, of how he tied strings to his pawns that he used to tug and control their movements and thoughts. And over the span of four standard years he had carefully, slowly, snipped every one of those invisible threads until he was no longer the puppet doing the master's bidding. Now, he served no will but his own.

He deserved that title; had done far more to earn it than any other. He had led fleets of ships to war, had fought the enemy face-to-face and won. He had negotiated smoothly with worried senators and planet systems, created treaties, destroyed resistances. He had murdered children, killed innocents, and tortured victims in the name of the Empire, and he had done it swiftly, efficiently, and emotionlessly. He had instilled fear and awe into the people of the Empire, and when they spoke of him it was in whispered voices. He had created this empire with his hands and lightsaber.

Yet Palpatine proceeded to act as if _he_ was the one who owned it. It was a charade that sickened Anakin.

He gritted his teeth; that power should be his.

Anakin abruptly got up from his seat. He felt like a caged animal; he had to get away. This small room was too confining, and it couldn't contain his rage. He left the former Galactic Republic building swiftly (he still chuckled at the irony that the once democratic building now housed this new dictatorship); he knew exactly where he was going. He got into his speeder and easily maneuvered his way through traffic to get to the Jedi Temple.

As he walked into the Temple's main hallway he breathed in the calm atmosphere, feeling better by the second. The peaceful, timeless ambiance of the Temple soothed the jagged anger in him. He felt like he could release some of that ever-burning rage when he entered here.

As he strolled the hallways he didn't pass a single person by; this did not alarm him. Very few Jedi were still alive, a fact he was thankful for. All the Jedi from the Order had been killed, and what the Temple now housed were young students just newly discovered to be Force sensitive. They'd had no previous interaction with the Jedi, and as a result were not repressed by the Order's strict codes; they were like blank books waiting to be written in. This thought made Anakin smile. It was a good beginning. He could control their powers and keep an eye on them at the same time. After all, it was better to keep potential enemies close than let them lurk in the unknown.

He didn't fear the younglings, or any Jedi for that matter; he knew that he surpassed them all in power. But he still felt that it was better for them to learn how to control the Force here, where he could manipulate their training, than in some hidden area out of his scope of influence. Besides, there was another reason he kept the Temple around…

He strolled with deliberate footsteps, knowing where he was going. He stopped once he reached his destination; a glass window allowed him to gaze into the meditation room without disturbing its occupants. The entire Jedi population was in that small room, a grand total of twelve. Eleven younglings and one Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, were all that remained of the once-fearsome Order. Anakin smiled, and this time it was not because of the Jedi's downfall but because of what was left. Or, more importantly, _who_ was left.

He gazed at Obi-Wan as he instruct the young Padawan Learners in the art of meditation. He had never been good at it; he still wasn't. But Obi-Wan had the patience for that. He also had the patience to teach the younglings, and Anakin loved to observe him at work.

He watched serenely as Obi-Wan finished up the meditation lesson and sent the children off to enjoy some free time. The Jedi exited the room, and almost ran into Anakin in his haste. He steadied Obi-Wan and asked him jokingly, "Is there a specific place you need to be at this exact instant, Obi? Or do you intentionally try to run people over?"

Obi-Wan glanced up at Anakin, startled, before lowering his gaze. He tried to break away from Anakin's grip. The hand remained firmly attached to his arm. "Very funny, Anakin," Obi-Wan said with no hint of amusement. "I just don't like wasting time, is all. Besides, I was going to check something up in the Jedi Archives—"

"I'll go with you," Anakin smoothly interjected.

Obi-Wan found no way to shake Anakin off, so instead he smiled politely and said, "Thank you for the company." They walked together to the library, and all the while Obi-Wan wished that he were taller than Anakin. Unfortunately, Anakin still towered over him. Even though the height difference wasn't much (maybe a few inches or so), the way Anakin carried himself somehow made him seem taller; he commanded power and respect. But then again, Obi-Wan had never liked flashy displays of power; he preferred actions to appearance, as the latter could be and often was deceiving.

When they got to the library, Obi-Wan lazily picked out a couple of books and holofiles at random. He didn't actually need to go to the library, but he might as well make his excuse seem valid. Glancing over his shoulder as he pretended to look at another holofile, he saw that Anakin was still waiting for him. As he couldn't think of any more credible ways to stall without Anakin getting angry or impatient, he walked over to the couch Anakin was sitting on and slid in beside him. He placed his books on the floor by his feet and, getting to the point, asked bluntly, "Is there any particular reason you're here, Anakin?"

"Please, call me Ani," Anakin said amiably, his voice as relaxed as Obi-Wan's was stressed. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"_Anakin_," Obi-Wan said warningly, "I do not feel comfortable calling you by a nickname."

"Come now, Obi, don't be so formal. I'm the reason you're allowed to keep the Jedi Temple running, after all. I'd have thought that you'd be a bit more gracious to me. Besides, we're good friends. Adding up everything, I think I have the right to ask you to humor me, wouldn't you say so?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "All right, _Ani_. But I would like to correct you on one point: we once were good friends. We are friends no longer."

Anakin switched the topic abruptly. "Leia and Luke had another disagreement today."

Obi-Wan relaxed. This was common ground; he could handle this kind of conversation. He felt a very strong bond with Anakin's two children, and whenever they visited the Jedi Temple he looked after them as if they were his own. "What was it about this time? Pets? Names? Who's older or more mature?"

Anakin chuckled. "Not quite. It's about who their mother is."

Obi-Wan's face fell flat. "Not again…"

"I'm afraid so." Anakin leaned back into a more comfortable position on the couch as he smiled charmingly at Obi-Wan. "I told them that you were their mother."

"Anakin…"—Obi-Wan ignored Anakin's raised eyebrows (he wouldn't use that nickname…it incorporated the idea of friendship, and he did not want to encourage that notion)—"you can't keep lying to them like that. You have to tell them the truth. Padmé is their mother, and they have a right to know."

Anakin felt a stirring of anger and hurt roll up from the pit of his stomach, but he swallowed it down. They were bitter emotions to digest. "I disagree," he said harshly, "They need a mother—a _living_ mother. A corpse won't help them any." Anakin glared at the wall opposite of him, before his anger subsided. He turned to Obi-Wan, and his blue eyes were warmed by some emotion. Obi-Wan broke the gaze first, feeling uncomfortable.

Anakin's voice softened to a persuasive alto, "I've seen the way you bond with my kids…you'd make a wonderful mother. Why can't you just accept that?"—when Obi-Wan remained silent, Anakin went on—"You can't keep declining my offer to live with us. It would do wonders for Leia and Luke if you were around more often, and they would be so happy if you said yes…" His voice drifted off suggestively, expectantly.

Obi-Wan had heard enough. He got up abruptly, the mechanics in his artificial knees whirling faintly with the motion. He had gotten used to the faint noises and slightly awkward movements by now, and by now he hardly noticed them for the most part. But they would never feel like a true part of his body. Phantom pain haunted him where his true limbs should be. He rubbed his prosthetic legs; they were a reminder that emotions could lead to fatal mistakes. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to my room. I would like to have some time _alone_ to meditate."

Anakin nodded. He stood up and placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Well, how about I escort you there, then?" He asked pleasantly in a voice that belied no decline. "I would like to be updated on the occurrences at the Temple. Since I am the benefactor, it's my duty to be well-informed."

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and smiled. There it was again; that small reminder of who owed who here. For a second he wanted nothing more than to slap Anakin's hand off his shoulder…but then he thought of his charges and of Leia and Luke. He couldn't abandon those children; he had to tolerate Anakin, for their sake if not his own. He could do nothing about the unwanted contact.

The two began to walk as Obi-Wan tried to ignore the constant weight of Anakin's hand on his shoulder. If it weren't for the troubled look in his eyes, one would assume they were friends. He replied, "The Temple is doing fine. I'm teaching all of the younglings how to meditate and control their emotions—"

"That nonsense again?" Anakin snorted. "How can you expect to wipe out all emotion in a being, even young ones such as your charges? People were meant to feel things, Obi. If they didn't, then this universe would be a lonely place because no one would ever connect with anyone else. We would isolate ourselves with our apathy, and in doing so destroy all the good, all the bad, all of the possible futures."

Obi-Wan listened to the whirring of his legs for a moment. Whenever he took a step forward, his knees gave off a slight _tick_ sound. He tried to time his breathing to the ticking sound; it was a calming game he played with himself when he felt his patience wearing thin. "I'm not trying to erase their emotions, but create insight on them. A Jedi needs to understand the difference between feelings and practical sense. Hard choices must be made for the greater good, and personal emotions have to be acknowledged, then dispersed, before those important decisions can be decided upon. What I'm trying to teach them is how to _control_ their emotions." A subtle, pointed glance accompanied the statement.

"You don't acknowledge anything. Not feelings or people." Anakin stared ahead at nothing, old feelings of resentment coursing through him; he himself had never been acknowledged by Obi-Wan, had never been recognized for his greatness.

"In the same route, if not the same sense of that question, there's a problem I'd like to acknowledge," Obi-Wan said with strained cheerfulness.

Anakin's ears perked at this. If Obi-Wan was trying to muster up some hospitality that seemed semi-normal, then his request must be a large one indeed. "My curiosity is overwhelming," Anakin said dryly, although he was speaking the truth.

"I would like to begin training my students in lightsaber comba—"

"No." Anakin's word had the finality of a guillotine chopping down on the head of its prisoner. Only, instead of killing a person this time, Anakin had killed an idea.

"But how can they learn to be Jedi if you won't even let them use training lightsabers? There's only so much I can do with meditation and educational lessons," Obi-Wan argued, frustration tingeing every word.

"I thought you preached peace in this Temple. If that is indeed the truth, then why do you ask for weapons?" Anakin questioned sharply with his brutal offensive nature. "Weapons only bring about violence. They are the _symbol_ of violence. Having a weapon tempts one to use it without care, and that creates hostile situations when they could have otherwise been solved diplomatically. I kept this Temple open because you told me that you wanted a safe haven for those sensitive to the Force—so that they wouldn't be alarmed by their odd powers. To keep them from becoming outcasts in their societies, accused of witchcraft and sorcery."

Anakin studied Obi-Wan with a sidelong gaze that made him feel exposed. After pausing for a moment Anakin continued, "It seems to me that you mean for this Temple to become more than just a safe haven, if you insist on having weapons… No, I decline your request. This subject will _never_ be brought up again."

Though he was quelled under Anakin's harsh words and look, he couldn't help but press on, "At least let me have a lightsaber, so that I can protect—"

Anakin halted in his tracks, forcing Obi-Wan to do the same. He stared Obi-Wan right in the eye and said in a harsh hiss, "_No_."

They resumed their walk in silence. Obi-Wan saw the door to his room and started to go faster, but right before he could escape into his personal haven Anakin stopped him by saying, "I'll be bringing Leia and Luke here tomorrow." Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. Anakin left in a flurry of dark robes, a flash of his right metallic hand glinting harshly in the light before his robes covered it.

Obi-Wan entered his living quarters with a sigh. He rubbed a hand through his brown hair while he sank down onto one of his comfortably plush seats. His nerves were a little frazzled at the moment; a common consequence of Anakin's random visits.

He loved spending time with Leia and Luke, but that also meant Anakin would be shadowing them the entire while, and he'd have to interact with him too… But Obi-Wan couldn't turn away the twins. He tried to exert his good influence over them whenever possible… He just hoped that he made a big enough impact on them for them to remain good in nature later on. He sensed that the Force was strong in both of them, and he hoped that when it came to bloom his teachings would be enough to make them choose the path of Light, despite whatever training Anakin was shoving into their minds.

Obi-Wan took a shower, hoping to ease his anxiety. It didn't help much to ease his mind, but his body felt better once clean. He dressed in simple brown and beige attire, and sat cross-legged on his bed to begin meditation. His room was a comfortable place, furnished with the most advanced equipment possible. However, he wished for simplicity. This extravagance was a gift from Anakin, one he'd rather not have.

He still didn't know why Anakin insisted upon paying for everything the Temple needed; he had supplied them with the most advanced equipment and modern comforts of living, as well as anything else Obi-Wan asked for—within reason (as their conversation from today showed). He assumed Anakin felt guilty for murdering so many Jedi younglings and was trying to quiet his conscience. And while Obi-Wan was thankful that his students could live in such luxury, he hated the thought of being indebted to Anakin. He disliked the feeling of being watched and observed—every time Anakin walked these halls, he couldn't shake off the impression that tabs were being kept on him.

He was about to dissolve these feelings of discontent and sink into a nearly unconscious state to meditate when his comlink bleeped at him once, signifying he had an incoming message. Puzzled as to who it could be, since no one ever contacted him except Anakin (and he had recently left, so it couldn't be him), Obi-Wan clicked the 'on' button. No holographic image of a person appeared before his eyes. Instead, a robotic voice asked if he had problems with insects and needed to de-bug his room. While it was a common occurrence for comlinks to be spammed by telemarketer robots, Obi-Wan knew that his comlink had a private number and wavelength—it couldn't be a real telemarketer call.

Not knowing what was exactly going on, but having a hunch, he went into the bathroom adjoined to his room. He'd never sensed a surveillance camera in his living quarters before, but he didn't want to take any chances. "All right, I'm some place safe," he whispered into the comlink. To his amazement, a hologram of Yoda appeared before his eyes. "Yoda?" Obi-Wan exclaimed joyously. "Is that really you?"

"I it is," Yoda stated solemnly in that way of his. Obi-Wan had never been happier to hear his old friend's odd way of speaking.

"Where have you been hiding all this time? Wait—it's probably better that I don't know. How did you survive the Jedi Genocide? And get this comlink's number? You aren't in trouble, are you?" Obi-Wan knew he was blathering, but he couldn't help it. He hadn't seen his friend for four standard years…not since they parted ways, him to take on Anakin and Yoda to face Palpatine. When Obi-Wan learned that Palpatine lived, he had naturally assumed that Yoda had died in the duel—how glad he was to be proven wrong.

"Safe I am, although concerned. Have a mission for you, I do," Yoda said cryptically.

Obi-Wan stared at the comlink, at Yoda's grave expression and the way he leaned heavily on his staff. "What do you need me to do, Yoda? I'm afraid there's not much I can do in my current position, but I'll try to help you anyway I can."

"Information on the Dark Side we need. Darth Vader, you must spy on. Get close, learn what you can, to the truth open your eyes. A small rebellion group of Jedi we have. A weakness in the Siths we must find, before act we can. Accept, will you?" Yoda gazed at Obi-Wan neutrally, allowing Obi-Wan to make up his mind without outer interference or influence.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and expelled his personal frustrations from the meeting with Anakin. He calmed himself so he could make this decision rationally. But he already knew his answer. He would do this to help Yoda and the other surviving Jedi, to restore balance to the Force, and to save democracy. It was his duty as a Jedi, and what he needed to do as a person. He had a million questions to ask Yoda—who was still alive, where were they, what were they planning—but he shoved them to the back of his mind for later. Instead, he simply said, "I accept, Yoda. What do you need me to find out?"

"Any and all things, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Most important are the little details. Watch wisely. Contact you I will." Yoda nodded once to show his respect for Obi-Wan, before letting a smile flit over his face. "Glad I am to see you safe, old friend." The transmission ended before Obi-Wan could give a response. He held the comlink in silence for a moment longer, savoring the feeling. _He was not alone_. There were other Jedi out there, small as that group may be.

He had been given a chance to right his wrongs.

Obi-Wan clipped his comlink onto his belt and sat on his bed once more. He wasn't willing to let go of the small communication device. It was his connection to the outside, to the Jedi. He prepared himself for meditation.

The Force was alive all around him, and he submersed himself into it.


	3. Shadows

**Reposted (again) 12-8-05: **Wow, **Liyina**, thank you for that _extremely_ insightful correction. Yes, I look up lots of facts about Star Wars to try to keep my story realistic to the SW universe (plus, I enjoy it). But I hadn't thought about the Basic font being different from English! For those who were like me and clueless, Galactic Basic, while spoken like English, has its own font called 'Aurebesh.' Well, I did some research to learn more, and now when Anakin describes the letters he will be describing their Aurebesh form. Now, the font I downloaded to help me see what they look like is not pure Aurebesh, but a sort of hybrid of it that was adapted to match the lettering showed in Episodes six and two. So if there are any inconsistencies between the Aurebesh you know and what I describe, it's that my Aurebesh is not a pure form, but a 'Galactic Basic' form. You can download Galactic Basic Font at http (colon) (double slash) www (dot) erikstormtrooper (dot) com (slash) galacticbasic (dot) htm. I tried to put the Aurebesh font in here so you could see what the words really look like, but apparently ff isn't compatible with that font style. But if you go to the site I suggested, you can see it for yourself.

**Reposted 8-28-05: **Thank you, **Blaze the Unmaker** (aka: Aubrey), for catching my mistakes. XD Somehow a few just always manage to slip between my fingers and wiggle their way onto the computer… I appreciate that you caught them for me. :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block:** Well, this time it's an internet site, just for a change of pace. ;) It's www .the force .net/swtc/ Just remove the spaces and you'll get there. I've used this site a bit for my own story, and it's got some interesting articles. This link is to the Technical Commentaries section, but the entire site is pretty interesting. You can find quite a few interesting facts here, and I liked going through everything. As this chapter does include some animals known only to the Star Wars universe, I thought it was appropriate to suggest the website on this chapter's Writer's Block. If you go to there and scroll down to the 'Zoology' link, you can find descriptions and pictures of some interesting animals. If you're in a jam of what to write next in your Star Wars fic, maybe reading something here will inspire you. Well, that's what I'm hoping at least. :)

I'd like to just mention a piece of irony from the last chapter that I thought was pretty clever of me (hey, I need to take victories where I can. :P). Anakin hates how Palpatine manipulates others to do his bidding. But, in some ways, Anakin does the exact same thing to Obi-Wan. So Anakin despises the man yet mimics him. Haha…I don't know if anyone else saw that or thought it was ironic, but that's what I tried to portray in a very subtle way. If I was able to pull it off is a very different matter. ;)

Thank you for those who reviewed, they make my day. :) I love hearing from you, and any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

**Page Amount: **11

**Word Count: **8,922 (bigger chapter, yay!)

Started 6-13-05, written on 6-18 (Ashley and Kaitlin slept over today. :D), 6-26, and finished 7-3-05

Listening to: silence (Again. XD I just haven't been listening to my headphones lately. Good or bad thing?) & Evanescence: Fallen

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Three**: Shadows_

Anakin straightened his black robe and tunic calmly. He critiqued himself in the mirror, appraising the view to find any flaws. He gave his reflection a pleased smile; he was satisfied with it. He couldn't keep the smugness off his face. He always enjoyed the chance to spend time with Obi-Wan. Even if their friendship was strained now, Anakin knew that eventually he would rebuild it. It was a simple matter of overcoming that first step, and then everything else would fall into place. He could sense that Obi-Wan's resistance was growing thin…at times he could feel the spark of friendship that had been his sole light in his youth.

His solitary existence in the mirror was intruded upon by two small beings. Leia and Luke tugged at his robe impatiently. "Come on, Daddy, we're going to be late! Obi-Wan didn't look happy the last time we weren't on time…" Leia pouted. She gave another hard tug to his robe, showing her displeasure in a childish way.

Luke was more reserved about his opinion, but Anakin knew that he was just as impatient to see Obi-Wan. Four years of watching him grow up had taught Anakin how to see the little signs; Luke was chewing on his bottom lip slightly, and he did that when he was anxious. It was a bad habit Anakin had yet to cure him of. "I want to see Mother," he said quietly. "It's been a while since the last time, hasn't it, Dad?"

Anakin nodded, kneeling down on his knees to hug his two children. He squeezed their shoulders reassuringly and said, "Yes, it has been too long. Don't worry, though; it won't always be like this. Obi-Wan just needs some time to think things through. But I'm sure that in the end he'll want to come live with us…how could he not, when you two are so cute?"—he tweaked their noses, which brought out grumbling and smiles—"He just doesn't want to leave the Jedi Temple right now because he's worried about those younglings. He's afraid that, without him, they'll be unsupervised and get hurt."

"Isn't that what surveillance droids are for?" Leia scrunched up her nose in confusion. "Why doesn't he just use them to watch over those kids instead?"

"Well, yes…you _could_ use surveillance droids, but it wouldn't be the best idea. Droids can't process the spontaneity and feelings of children, so they don't exactly make the best caretakers. Besides, you shouldn't lean so heavily on technology, lest it becomes a crutch. Droids and machinery should be used for their convenience and timesaving factors, but you should never forget that they aren't an all-mighty solution. They can't think beyond what is computed into them. Droids cannot solve our problems; they can only fix the problems that we have already found solutions for."

Leia stared at her father, a puzzled look appearing on her face. The more she tried to understand his words, the less sense they made to her. "But that doesn't make any sense…why use droids at all, then?"

"Just because you have the solution doesn't mean you have the power to progress towards it," Anakin chided. "Droids are a tool to achieve manual labor."

Staring up at him with wide eyes, Leia asked, "Even Threepio? But he's my friend…" She didn't like that thought, and her lower lip jutted out a bit from both stubbornness and sadness.

"Yes, even him." Anakin switched the subject, "Now let's get going. We don't want to make Obi-Wan wait, do we?" Leia instantly cheered up at that, which had been his intention.

She skipped out of the room and struggled to put her shoes on. Luke followed afterwards, and helped her tie her shoelaces. While his hands weren't agile enough to make a perfect knot it was better than Leia's tangled attempts. It warmed Anakin's heart to see his children helping each other. They seemed to alternate between friendship and fighting with no in-between. Anakin always treasured—and appreciated—the moments when they got along.

They made decent time to the Temple and weren't too late. Even thought they were only late by a few minutes, Anakin expected Obi-Wan to be irritated at their unpunctuality and prepared himself for abstract reprimands and disappointed looks. He hated them, but he had learned to deal with them nonetheless. But to his surprise, when they got there Obi-Wan greeted them cheerfully. Anakin savored the rare moment of friendliness, soaking up the feeling and storing it away for later. Good memories were hard to come by these days, and he made sure to never let one pass him by if he could.

"So, what do you guys want to do today?" Obi-Wan asked Leia and Luke. He crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet, so that the twins were eyelevel with him. "I'm open to any ideas."

"I want to go to the zoo!" Leia exclaimed. "Luke told me there was a man-eating bantha there, and I want to see it!" She leaned in close and whispered into Obi-Wan's ear, "I hear we can even pet it, if we don't make too much noise."

Obi-Wan laughed at Leia's gullibility to her brother's pranks. "Banthas are herbivores, Leia. They wouldn't eat you, or me, or anything else that moves. And the reason you can pet them is because they're in the petting zoo. That just goes to prove how harmless they are."

"Oh…" Leia looked thoroughly disappointed.

To make it up to her Obi-Wan said helpfully, "We can always throw you inside the cage of a dragonsnake if you're looking for entertainment… I've heard they'll eat anything…even troublesome four-year-olds. Does that sound like fun?" Leia vehemently shook her head side to side as Obi-Wan laughed. Her expression was priceless.

Anakin put a comforting hand on his frightened daughter's shoulder. "Obi-Wan…you should know better than to tease a little girl like that. Leia, honey, don't worry. If anyone's going to be eaten by a dragonsnake, it's Obi-Wan. I'll make sure of that."

Obi-Wan grimaced, then smiled almost imperceptibly. "I appreciate your concern for my well-being."

Anakin grinned and responded, "You know that your well-being is always first priority—" Leia tugged on his robe and pouted—"all right, all right, _second_ priority to me." He then happened to glance at Luke. "Well, okay, _third_ priority. But that's my final offer." He gave Obi-Wan a teasing smile. Anakin could be a charming man when he wanted to be; years of learning self-control and the art of manipulating emotions had made sure of that.

Rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan muttered, "Wonderful." Even he wasn't completely immune to Anakin's charisma, but he'd known Anakin far too long to fall under its sway.

"I know, isn't it?" Obi-Wan was met with a beaming smile.

"Excruciatingly," was Obi-Wan's response.

"Don't you mean…'extremely'?" Anakin asked, always quick to point out a mistake in his former master's speech since so few were to be found.

Obi-Wan grinned and said, "I meant what I meant. You still have much to learn in the ways of speaking, if you are at a loss already."

"Watch what you say, old man. I could talk circles around you until you wouldn't even know right from left. I am extremely gifted in speech, I'll have you know, and I'm adept in several languages. I can also be very diplomat, if the need arises," Anakin said proudly.

"I see you have also gained the humble personality of a politic in the process."

"…Are you making fun of me?" Anakin asked with a quirk of his eyebrows and mouth.

Obi-Wan shrugged, looking innocent. "Perhaps."

Leia rolled her eyes and tugged on both men's robes. "Come on," she whined, "All the animals will be dead by the time we get there!" She grabbed onto Obi-Wan and Anakin's hands and used them to swing herself off the ground. She had to tuck her feet up close to her body so that they wouldn't skim across the floor.

"Leia, honey…I don't think all the animals will die in the next five minutes," Anakin said with amusement. He allowed her to use his arm as a swing set, and even encouraged it by swinging her higher.

"They will if a meteor strikes the zoo!" Luke interrupted as he waved his hands in Leia's face to demonstrate the colossal power of a meteor; it was one of those moments where his boyish nature overcame his shyness. "The zoo will go up in a _pouf!_ and all those fuzzy little animals will be vapor goo!" Leia shrieked and hid behind her father.

"Not helping, Luke…" Anakin said sternly, although he did cover his mouth in a conspicuous way. Obi-Wan had mimicked the motion to keep his own smile from showing. Leia might burst into tears if she thought they were laughing at her—which they weren't, really. Well…maybe they were just a little. But the conversation was so impractical and silly that Obi-Wan felt he was justified in his actions.

To change the topic, Anakin said, "Let's get into the hovercraft…the faster we get _there_, the faster I can drive us to the zoo. How about this—I'll race you two there to see who's the fastest. Ready, set, go!" He clapped his hands, and Luke and Leia raced towards their father's sleek black speeder. Anakin was left grinning, standing by Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan shook his head, once again fighting against revealing a smile. "I thought the idea was that _you_ were going to race them."

"Nah, I just didn't want them to kill each other over how all the animals are going to die. You should see four-year-old fights…" Anakin gave a fake shudder. "It's the most horrifying experience I have ever witnessed."

"Isn't that what fathers are supposed to deal with?"

"I just did: I made them preoccupied with racing so they would stop fighting."

"It seems to me more like you were running away from a bad situation."

"Maybe." Anakin had a twinkle in his eye. "But they were doing the running, not me. Now if the matter is settled…shall we?" He motioned with a hand towards his hovercraft.

Obi-Wan smiled. "Alright, I'll let you win this round. But it's only because I feel sorry for you, being an incompetent father and all." Anakin pretended to look outraged, like a rooster with his feathers ruffled. The pompous expression made Obi-Wan chuckle. They walked to the hovercraft in an easy silence, taking their time. Leia and Luke were running circles around the transport by the time they got there.

"Ha!" An out-of-breath Leia exclaimed, pointing at Anakin, "I beat you! Daddy's an old Worrt!" She shrieked as Luke tagged her. "Not fair! I wasn't paying attention, so you can't do that! Cheater, cheater, bantha eater!"

Luke stuck out his tongue. "Liar, liar, robes on fire!" He continued to run around the vehicle, careful to always keep one step ahead of an enraged Leia.

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin to see if he was going to do anything to stop them, but the other man seemed content to watch the twins tire themselves out. Obi-Wan sighed and decided to take the matter into his own hands. He had to constantly deal with the younglings in the Temple so he knew how fights could escalate out of the silliest things if they weren't stopped quickly. He got in-between the two running children and grabbed them by the backs of their shirts. He held on tightly, so they couldn't hit each other or run away. Leia and Luke stood still, looking morosely at him. When they both had the same sullen expression on their faces, it was easy to see how they were twins.

"If you two don't settle down, we'll march right back to the Temple and I'll have you practice meditation for an hour. Then for another hour you can contemplate why violence is the worst possible course of action. Or, if you stop right now," Obi-Wan added on brightly, "we can go to the zoo and have lots of fun. I'll let you make the choice."

He loosened his grip on the children and they stepped away from him. They hung their heads in embarrassment and shuffled their feet on the durasteel floor of the Temple Hanger. "I'd rather go to the zoo, Obi-Wan," Luke finally said in a soft voice. Leia seconded his opinion with a sharp nod of her head, causing her curly brown hair to fly up and down. Her hair reminded Obi-Wan so much of Padmé's…she truly was her mother's daughter. But she was her own person too.

"Good choice." Obi-Wan grinned before admitting, "I'd rather go to the zoo myself, personally." As they clamored into the hovercraft, Obi-Wan turned to the backseats and told Leia and Luke warningly, "You two better be buckled up…"

"We know, we know." Leia huffed out a breath, pulling on her seatbelt to show Obi-Wan that it was tight. "You only tell us every time we go out! You've even got Daddy saying it now…"

"I have, now have I?" Obi-Wan asked, giving Anakin an amused glance. Leia nodded her head unhappily. "Well, that's good," he said firmly, "After that time I caught you two with your seatbelts off, I was worried… It's good to know that your father is finally taking proper care of you…"

Anakin groaned as he started to ease the hovercraft upward. "It was only that one time…we were just so late that I forgot to check their seatbelts… Besides, I'm a good driver; we wouldn't have gotten into any wrecks so it doesn't really matter, now does it?"

"It's that kind of thinking that leads to wrecks," Obi-Wan scolded gently. At Anakin's dark look, Obi-Wan said softly, "I'm only worried about the safety of your children, Anakin. You shouldn't be angry about that."

Anakin wiped the expression off his face. He guided his speeder out of the opening hanger doors and headed in the direction of the Coruscanti Zoo. "I'm not." With the flair for flying that he'd had since he was a little child racing Podracers, Anakin zoomed skillfully through traffic.

Obi-Wan could disagree with that statement, but he had no desire to start a fight with Anakin while Leia and Luke were there. He didn't want the children to see him and Anakin arguing because sometimes it got pretty intense. They didn't get into full-blown fights often (Obi-Wan's levelheaded nature made sure of that), but the few fights they did have were enough to make him never want to repeat the experience again. It was at those moments that Obi-Wan got a glimpse of the Darth Vader in Anakin.

He sensed that Anakin would explode in anger if he pressed the matter. Besides, he was on a mission now. He was going to do whatever it took to achieve success. He had known no other life beyond the Jedi Order, and he served the Order faithfully; he was proud to be a Jedi Knight and Master. He would do what the Jedi resistance needed him to do without hesitation. And right now, that meant getting into Anakin's confidence—_not_ arguing with him.

Obi-Wan hardened his resolve. All through this internal debate, his face never changed expression. The serene smile was always there. The gentle humming of the small hovercraft enveloped the group and they were all quiet for a moment. But then Anakin made a sharp turn to cut into a separate lane of traffic and the serenity surrounding Obi-Wan was shattered as he gripped the dashboard tightly. "This is why I hate flying," he said as he nervously let go of his hold on the craft. He tugged his seatbelt to make sure it was secure.

"It seems pretty normal to me," Leia said, wondering why Obi-Wan was nervous.

Anakin laughed and grinned apologetically at his slightly edgy companion. "Sorry about that. I keep forgetting that you're not used to my flying…"

"Forgetting or purposely not remembering?" Obi-Wan countered.

Anakin innocently looked ahead, watching traffic whiz by on all sides, no more than blobs of colors and shapes on his windshield. "How about we turn on the radio? Let's see if there's any good music being transmitted today." Anakin twisted one of the many knobs on the hovercraft. The first station was playing advertisements, but after a few more twists he found a good station with quiet background music. "The radio's been around for more than a millennium, yet they still haven't figured out how to get rid of all the commercials." Anakin shook his head in disappointment. "One of the few shortcomings of technology."

Obi-Wan said accusingly, "You only did that to change the subject. That's a sneaky, underhanded, diplomatic move you just used there."

"Ah, but at least you admitted that it was diplomatic. Which means that I must have been successful."

"Now why would you say that?" Obi-Wan leaned back in his seat and waited for an explanation.

"It's simple, really. Firstly," Anakin held up one finger, all the while using the other hand to steer (the one-handed steering made Obi-Wan very nervous), "diplomatic means discreet and subtle. So that means I made the transition smoothly enough that you can't find obvious fault with it. You have no way to prove that it wasn't just a simple change of subject, which happens often when one subject is mulled over too much. Secondly"—Anakin held up another finger—"you hate political figures, so for you to use such an insult must mean that it worked." Anakin grinned proudly at his logic, knowing that it was all true…in a sense.

Grumbling, Obi-Wan said, "Fine, fine. Keep your twisted logic to yourself, and keep your hands on the steering wheel. I don't care what we talk about, as long as you keep both hands on the wheel." Obi-Wan conceded to defeat, caring more about his health than his dignity.

Anakin had a wicked gleam in his eyes as he did what Obi-Wan asked. "Well, we could talk about politics, if you wanted to…"

"No!" Leia yelled. Her reaction mirrored Obi-Wan's horrified thoughts.

"I see that your child has more common sense than you," Obi-Wan said smugly, thankful that at least one other person in the hovercraft had the same view of politics as he did. He folded his hands into his cloak in a very professional-looking way.

Leia had her hands and face plastered to the window. "No, I mean that we passed up the entrance to the zoo!" she wailed, "How could you, Daddy? Make a sharp left, a sharp left!"

"Sharp left?" Obi-Wan said nervously, not liking the sound of that.

Anakin smiled, the edges of his mouth quirking up mischievously. "Hold on tight." He broke the speeder away from the main stream of traffic and veered down and to the left sharply, whizzing between other vehicles as he dodge crisscrossing lanes of traffic.

Obi-Wan, having his hands tucked in his robe (a most unwise decision) couldn't move fast enough to steady himself at the sharp change of direction. Even the seatbelt couldn't keep his head from knocking against the side window. 'Ow,' Obi-Wan thought. He was finally able to extract a hand from his cloak, and used it to rub the throbbing side of his head. Hair apparently didn't make very good padding.

Anakin landed the hovercraft smoothly onto the Coruscanti Zoo's docking platform. The gentleness of his landing belied the madness of his driving. A quick estimation on Obi-Wan's part led to the belief that Anakin had just about broken fifty-two laws in his attempt to shave a few minutes off their travel time. As they got out, Anakin asked jokingly, "Any broken bones, sprained necks, or jammed fingers?" He pretended to check his children, tickling them. They shrieked and ran away from his wiggling fingers. "Nope, I think everything's where it's supposed to be."

"I don't think anything's broken or sprained, but my head is a little sore now. However, I'll pass up on the checkup, thank you very much. I'd like to save my dignity, if not my head," Obi-Wan said jokingly, making light of a painful situation.

Instantly, Anakin's cheerful mood changed to concern. He walked over to Obi-Wan and gently laid a finger where a bump was already forming. Obi-Wan winced at the slight contact, before discreetly shifting out of Anakin's reach. "It's nothing, really; don't worry about it. It's what I deserve for not being on my guard. I should have known not to trust your driving skills… You're always doing some foolish stunt or another." Obi-Wan didn't like the look on Anakin's face; he couldn't decipher it, and that bothered him. There was just something subtly wrong; some detail he couldn't pick out, but knew was there.

He had no idea what Anakin was thinking.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," Anakin said, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"That's good," Obi-Wan joked. "If you had done it intentionally, _then_ I would have had something to worry about. Don't fret about it so much, Anakin. I've had a lot worse than a hovercraft beating me up." Obi-Wan took Leia and Luke's hand and started to head towards the entrance of the zoo. "Come on, let's get going before the hovercraft decides that it _really_ doesn't like me." Leia and Luke giggled, relieved that Obi-Wan seemed fine.

Anakin stared at their backs for a moment, not moving. He tried to unclench his jaw. There was no direction for his anger, nothing he could aim it at. There was so much energy in him, and nowhere for it to go… He was upset that Obi-Wan was hurt yet he had no one to blame but himself. His anger and frustration turned onto himself.

Once they got in line to buy admission tickets, Obi-Wan turned to face Anakin. The same uneasiness overcame him when he looked at Anakin, but he dispersed the unsettled feeling to the Force. He wished Anakin would do the same, and get that expression off his face. "Are you coming, Anakin? Who knows, maybe the zoo _will_ blow up from a meteor, and we'll have you to blame for holding us up from seeing the animals one last time."

Anakin breathed out, tried to control his emotions (this met with very little success, so he opted to just ignore them instead), and responded lightly, "I think you should be thanking me, then, for not allowing you to be in the zoo while it's being blown to bits. Your lives would be indebted to me." Anakin paused with a theatrical flair before saying, "But Obi-Wan already owes me his life, doesn't he? What's the count now, Obi? Ten, twelve, twenty times?"

Obi-Wan was relieved that the odd look had vanished from Anakin's face. "Most of those times don't count and you know it, Anakin. You're the one who always gets us in trouble in the first place."

"Ah, but I always get us out of it," Anakin pointed out.

"But that also means that I don't owe you anything. Since you endangered my life, it's only right that you save it. So I'd have to say the score is pretty even. Besides, if we're nitpicking, I've gotten you out of trouble quite a few times myself…maybe they weren't life-endangering situations, but the Council can be just as bad if not worse sometimes…"

Anakin scowled and said stiffly, "Those don't count."

Sensing that Anakin didn't like the turn of the conversation, Obi-Wan tried to smooth the unintentional jab with a change of topic. "How much is admission to the zoo? I brought some credits with me, and I'm only hoping that it's enough… I admit, I've lived here all my life, yet I've never gone to the zoo before today. Odd, isn't it?"

"Maybe it's because you didn't have kids then," Luke said. "If you went by yourself, you might've felt awkward."

Obi-Wan ruffled Luke's blonde hair. "That's very insightful of you, Luke, and most likely very true. I probably would have felt awkward being all by myself. It's not a common place to find Jedi." Luke beamed at the compliment.

"That's because the Jedi never did anything for personal pleasure. They thought they had to deny self-happiness to serve others; that they were required to deny their own needs before they could provide for others." Anakin didn't look very happy, but then again, he never did when the topic centered on Jedi.

Obi-Wan said drolly to the children, "Or maybe we're all just sticklers with money and don't want to spend the credits." He put a hand on Anakin's shoulder and said quietly, in a voice that only he could hear, "I don't think now is the best time to argue about the merits and flaws of the Jedi Order. Your children came here to have a good time. Don't let your own discontent and personal feelings ruin their joy."

Anakin took a breath to argue with, but let it out again when he realized that Obi-Wan was right. His children deserved to have a good time. He would master his anger and suppress it so that they _could_ enjoy themselves. It was a simple mistake that had damaged Obi-Wan's head; holding a grudge against himself would benefit no one.

"You're right," Anakin said to Obi-Wan in an equally quiet voice. The line they were in moved up a bit and they were finally at the booth. Anakin said to Obi-Wan, in a slightly louder voice that the twins could also hear, "I'll pay for your ticket, to repay you for the advice."

Obi-Wan smiled and withdrew his hand. "If I keep this up, I might be able to make a job of this. It would be nice to be able to save up a bit of money."

Anakin paid for the tickets and asked casually, "Really? What are you saving up for?"

Obi-Wan frowned as he thought. He said noncommittally, "Nothing, really. I just want to keep some money around in case of an emergency, I suppose. Does it really matter what it's being used for?"

Anakin shrugged his shoulders. "I was just wondering. Because you know that if you ever need any sort of help…financial, political, any sort at all…you can come to me. I guess I'm just curious as to why you would need money, since I'm always willing to help you pay for anything."

"I appreciate your generosity, Anakin. I just don't want to become too indebted to you, or else I'll never be able to repay you." That was indeed the truth. Obi-Wan didn't like being dependant on Anakin for anything, and strove to be self-sufficient whenever possible.

Anakin stared at Obi-Wan, who was still holding hands with Leia and Luke as they gazed at the animals near the entrance. He said sincerely, "You've repaid me in a way that has nothing to do with money, Obi."

Obi-Wan didn't know how to respond to that, and fortunately he didn't have to. At that moment Leia tugged his hand and said impatiently, "I want to pet the man-eating bantha!" Luke nodded his head in agreement, although he didn't tear his eyes away from the Bog-wings. The small, gray winged reptiles were chattering as they flew around the cage. One dashed into the invisible force field close to where Luke was standing, causing him to jump slightly, startled. The Bog-wing just shook its head, twittering in annoyance, and, after taking a moment to regain its balance, launched itself back into the air.

Obi-Wan chuckled and squeezed Luke's hand to calm the boy. "Don't worry, they won't get out of that force field. Even if there were an electricity shortage in this sector, the shields would stay up since they not only run on the main generator, but on a backup one also. The shields themselves are impervious." He watched the small creatures fly around their cage. "They are fascinating creatures, aren't they? They always remind me of miniature copies of the dragons found in ancient folklore… Now, let's get going to that petting zoo. Does anyone know where it is?" Obi-Wan asked, having no experience with zoos.

"Fortunately for you, I had the intelligence to take one of the zoo maps with us." He waved the map in the air in a smug way, flipping it open. Crouching down by Luke, he asked, "Can you find the petting zoo, Luke?"

Luke shook his head 'no.' "I don't know how to read yet."

With a patience that Obi-Wan didn't even realize Anakin had, Anakin said, "Well, to start, it's two words: 'petting' and 'zoo.' The 'p' in 'petting' looks like a box with a little dash in the upper-right corner breaking the connection. And 'zoo' looks like a half oval cut diagonally, then two pairs of brackets facing inward to form two circles. Can you find that?"

Luke gazed at the map with an intense look of concentration. He bit his lower lip. Finally, he pointed at a word. "Is it that one?" he asked hopefully.

"No, that's a bathroom," Anakin corrected him gently.

"But it had the sort of box-shaped letter, and then there were those two circles…" Luke said, frustration evident in his voice. He was chewing his bottom lip again.

"You did good, Luke, I'm proud of you." Anakin ruffled Luke's hair and hugged him. "You almost got it that time; you're getting better at this every day. See, the words 'petting zoo' look like this." Anakin pointed at a completely different spot on the map. Luke stared at the word for a long time, before nodding.

As they started to walk in the direction of the petting zoo, Obi-Wan confessed to Anakin, "I don't see why you think you need my help—you're doing a great job of raising them on your own. Not only that, but they're gifted children. For Luke to be able to decipher even a little bit of reading at his age is phenomenal. You should be very proud of him—both of them, really."

The compliment aimed at his children made him smile. It was a genuine, happy expression. "I am very proud of them. I love them so much…" He drifted off, noticing how his children were racing further ahead. He stopped talking with Obi-Wan to yell a warning at them, "Don't get too far ahead! If I can't see you or you can't see me, then you need to head back!" His children waved to show they heard him. A child disappearing was every parent's worse fear, and Anakin was careful to make sure that that would never happen to his children.

Feeling satisfied with his parenting duties, he reverted his voice to its normal volume to resume their talk. "And it's not that I can't raise them on my own… It's just that I think it would be better for them to have _two_ parents. I had my mother, and she was wonderful, but I always wondered what it would be like to have a father…I don't want my children to always be wondering what a mother would be like. I don't want them to feel like they're missing something. Like I always was."

The conversation died out at that. It was a comment not many could successfully respond to, and even Obi-Wan didn't know what to say. They walked on in silence, watching Leia and Luke race from one animal to another. Even the sleeping animals excited the twins, much to the older men's amusement. The twins pointed and waved at a snoring wampa. It shook its raggedy, furry white coat out, grunted in their direction, and fell back asleep.

Starting up the conversation again on a fresh subject, Obi-Wan said, "If it wasn't for those force fields, I would be very worried about them. With all their nose-pressing against the shields, if that barrier wasn't there then they would have undoubtedly fallen in. And wampas aren't known for their hospitality."

"Well, then let's hope the barriers never fail," Anakin declared. "It's better than that primitive method of putting bars up, you must admit. This gives the viewer the best visibility possible, and in addition, energy barriers are much more reliable than metal bars; they don't break, bend, or rust."

"Still a faithful techno-gadget follower, eh? Even as a young boy you were always going on about this gadget or that device. I could never understand what you were talking about, even with the 'simplest' machines."—Obi-Wan snorted at that understatement—"When you were old enough to find blueprints in the Archives, I nearly cried. You started using visuals in your demonstrations and explanations…and that just made your attempts to explain everything to me more longwinded than before. I would have a headache for hours afterwards while I tried to decode your mechanic lingo. Which I failed to do so, I might add."

Anakin gave a small laugh. "I know; that's the reason I talked about them so much."

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan reprimanded in surprise, astonished at this new revelation yet somehow not; it was something he could definitely see Padawan Anakin doing.

"Stars, calm down, Obi. I was only joking—mostly." Anakin winked. "I loved electronics then, and I still love them now. I was just trying to educate you, although from your confession I see that I numbed your brain instead of stimulating it."

"Leave the teaching to those most qualified," Obi-Wan said jokingly.

"If people truly followed that saying, you would be putting a lot of people out of business," Anakin admonished while shaking his head in mock pity. "I'm afraid all the schools would have to be closed on Coruscant."

"If you have such doubts of the education on our fair planet, then why don't you change it?" Obi-Wan bantered lightly. Leia and Luke were still running up ahead, and Obi-Wan kept an eye on them to make sure they didn't get into any trouble.

Anakin took Obi-Wan's remark seriously, instead of the joke it was supposed to be. "I have."

"Hm?" Obi-Wan hummed questioningly. His mind wasn't fully on the conversation (he was watching Leia and Luke to make sure they were okay) so the comment flew over his head. Thus, the intelligible reply.

"As I said before, I _have_ changed the education system," Anakin reiterated proudly. "I've made the requirements and years of study needed to be a teacher stricter. A lot of mediocre teachers have lost their jobs in the process, and that works to the benefit of the schools. With those incapable of teaching fired, the schools have more money and can hire fewer but better qualified teachers. Some schools were in such an abysmal state that I had to completely restructure their teaching methods. A few schools were even beyond that hope. When that happened, I simply closed them down and moved the students—and those few teachers capable of their job—to other locations. I've improved the system."

Obi-Wan kept his eyes on Leia and Luke, who were currently playing tag in the middle of the broad pathway. Every time they nearly ran into some passerby, Obi-Wan worried. He didn't know how a stranger would react if a child ran into them—some would be nice, but others might not be so forgiving…he'd hate it if someone yelled at them…

Still not fully paying attention to Anakin, Obi-Wan asked absently, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but did you say that you altered the entire school system of Coruscant? That's impossible—the bills needed for that purpose would take decades to be passed, and then there would be the problem of actually _employing_ the laws—that could take another decade, if they were ever carried out at all."

"One of the many reasons a dictatorial government far outranks a democratic one," Anakin insulted Obi-Wan's preferred government. He was frustrated that Obi-Wan was ignoring him and couldn't help the jibe that came out of his mouth. Maybe Obi-Wan would pay more attention to him now.

At that, Obi-Wan thought slowly, and answered even slower. He mulled over everything Anakin had said in the past few minutes, and the results were not to his liking. "Anakin…" Obi-Wan looked at Anakin as he spoke in a serious tone, "If what you say is true"—Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but Obi-Wan cut him off—"and I have no doubt that it is, then you have just unemployed thousands of people."

Anakin scowled. "Their performances were unacceptable; they didn't deserve to keep their job. Education is very important, a precise tool to be wielded with precision. With them, they deformed it into a blunt instrument that was more harmful than anything else."

"Still, most of those people have families! I'm sure they simply needed a job to help support themselves and their loved ones. If they didn't have the exact education required it was only because they took the job out of necessity and not out of planning. How many people have you indirectly caused to suffer?" Obi-Wan was bothered; did Anakin even understand the economic system of Coruscant? It was a fragile balance, as most ecosystems and economies are, and Anakin had brazenly and foolishly altered it without regard to the negative consequences. "Do you realize the costs of your actions?"

Anakin was silent for a while. His face was a blank mask that shielded all his thoughts. Even Obi-Wan couldn't tell what lied beneath it, and he'd known the man for many years. It unnerved him that Anakin had learned, in just four years, how to conceal every thought he had. He never used to be this way; as a teenager and even as a young adult Anakin had displayed his emotions freely, wearing them on his sleeve. That had been part of the reason why the Jedi Council had worried about Obi-Wan taking on Anakin as a Padawan…the boy simply didn't know how to restrain his emotions. Now, the opposite seemed to be true. Time changed people, and not always in good ways.

At last, Anakin said, "I concede defeat on a certain point; I had not thought of the indirect consequences of my actions. However, I stand firmly by my decision to improve the educational system and the actions that I took." Anakin would say no more on the subject.

At that moment, Leia came running back to them shrieking out happily, "I see the banthas, I see the banthas!" She ran to her father and tugged on his black tunic. Luke followed a few seconds later and joined her in her tugging.

"Okay, okay!" Anakin laughed, batting their small, insistent hands away. "I see them too. We are most definitely at the petting zoo. You can stop pulling on my tunic, you two. I like it the length it is; if I wanted you to stretch it out to be a dress, I would have asked." Leia and Luke ran off at that, giggling at what their father had said. Anakin and Obi-Wan trailed behind them dutifully.

By the time they caught them up with the two children, Luke was already petting one of the banthas as it munched on some fodder. Leia watched him from a distance (she was still wary of the fictitious man-eating bantha). The hairy, gentle beast shook its mane a bit at Luke's petting. Luke gazed up at in delight as it made a small, friendly noise and shuffled closer to him so he could pet it with more ease. He said excitedly to Anakin, "I think he likes me, Dad!"

"You have a way with animals, Luke," Anakin said proudly. His son's ability to calm animals reminded him so much of his own abilities.

Leia huddled behind her dad. "Won't it eat him?" she questioned nervously, once again tugging on her father's tunic.

"No, Leia, it won't. As Obi has already said, banthas are strictly herbivores. Luke was just trying to scare you, honey. Go on, you can pet it; I'm sure it would love that." Anakin tried to gently nudge Leia in the direction of the grazing banthas, but she stubbornly clung to his garments.

"I'm not going near it," she declared determinedly. Looking around the petting zoo for something else to pet, she spotted the tauntauns. "Ooo…! Those look cute! Obi-Waaan," she said sweetly, before ending her sentence in a command, "you're going with me to see those."

"She's pretty demanding, isn't she?" Obi-Wan grinned. She had her mother's fire.

Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan with amusement. "Better you than me…besides, I have to stay here to watch out for Luke. Who knows, maybe one of these banthas really _is_ a man-eating monster."

Obi-Wan snorted at the barely veiled excuse, and followed after Leia. As they walked towards the tauntauns, the temperature dropped until the room was freezing. The regulator chilled the room to a comfortable temperature for the tauntauns. However, the same couldn't be said about Obi-Wan; he was shivering so much that his teeth began to clack together. "Why do I have to be the one to watch the child who wants to pet subzero-inhabiting animals?" Obi-Wan complained to no one in particular.

Leia, not caring about the cold while her thoughts were occupied, was petting one of the creatures. "Isn't it so pretty? It's like a fuzzy raptor with curly horns!" The tauntaun she was petting butted its horned head into her hand. She giggled. "I think it likes me!"

Obi-Wan looked at the tauntaun. It wasn't exactly an animal he would call…cute. But whatever Leia wanted to call it, it was docile, at least. In the end, that was all he cared about. He absentmindedly watched Leia as she continued to pet the creature, rubbing his arms all the while in a sad attempt to stay warm. Suddenly, a snort and the scraping sound of hoofed feet digging into the icy floor alerted Obi-Wan that something was coming up from behind.

He turned around slowly, not wanting to startle the creature behind him.

A full-grown reek stood behind him, pawing the ground nervously and tossing its tri-horned head. Obi-Wan groaned out loud; the last time he had seen a reek, it had been in the Geonosian Arena. He did _not_ want to relive that memory…

The creature had obviously wandered away from its section in the petting zoo and was unnerved by the cold temperatures and foreign creatures. Obi-Wan had no clue why the zookeepers were idiotic enough to put such a dangerous creature as a reek in the petting zoo, but he didn't have time to dwell on that thought. He walked slowly towards the reek, saying in a low, soothing voice, "Don't worry, I'm not here to harm you…let's get you back to where you belong, okay?" The reek eyed him, but allowed him to get close.

However, when he reached out his hand it jerked its head in agitation. Snorting again and pawing the ice- and snow-covered ground, the reek crouched on its back legs in an aggressive stance.

Obi-Wan stepped back slowly and wondered what to do. He had hoped that it would allow him to get close enough to lead it away using his hands only, but that seemed to no longer be an option. The reek clearly didn't want any human contact, and his actions had just made it more edgy. Any sudden movements on his part could agitate it to the point of charging.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan saw from the corner of his eyes that Leia was running towards him, shouting something happily. She didn't even register the reek as dangerous as she focused all her attention on Obi-Wan. To her, it was just another animal in a harmless petting zoo.

The reek, startled by the sudden burst of noise and the object—deemed enemy—barreling towards it, gave a roar and charged at the little girl. Leia froze when she heard the harsh bellow. Her head whipped around to stare at the snorting reek with horror, her legs frozen in place. Stampeding forward, its wicked top horn was pointed directly at her with the intention of impaling her upon it.

Obi-Wan gathered the Force around him and summoned it all into his legs, preparing to spring into the reek's charging path. While his chances of survival without a lightsaber would be exceedingly low, he was determined to distract the reek and give Leia a chance to run for safety. He leapt forward, fully intent on sacrificing himself for her.

But in midair a wall of pure Force energy halted his jump. He was thrown back by someone else's application of the Force, causing him to be farther away from Leia and the reek than before his attempted jump. He could not save her. He gazed in despair at the beast, until he noticed that its charge, too, had been stopped. It was sprawled on its belly, its legs flailing wildly. It was as if an extreme pressure was holding and crushing it to the ground.

The ice around it cracked as the reek's body pressured it to the point of breaking. The reek seemed to be pushed even closer to the ground, and with a groan from the splintering ice it was slammed through the thick layer of frozen water, its descent only being stopped by the cement floor hidden underneath. Jagged edges of broken ice tilted upwards on all sides, and Obi-wan could only imagine (with a wince) of the sharp ice shards burying themselves into the reek's thick hide. It gave a cry of pain as its struggling grew fainter. Blood dribbled out of its mouth, nose, and eyes in small spurts. With one last piercing cry, a half-gurgled roar that spurted more blood onto the ground and tainted the white ice and snow crimson, the reek's head lolled to the side and its body grew motionless. The puddle of blood grew around it as the snow soaked it in, becoming a dark vermilion. Impure.

Obi-Wan pushed himself off the ground, wincing as his bruised body protested; the fall on the ice had not been a gentle one. When he got up, he noticed that Anakin was standing behind him, a stony expression locked onto his face. Anakin's left hand relaxed, unclenching, and with it the expression loosened into something more humane. "Are you okay?" Anakin asked Obi-Wan. When Obi-Wan nodded, Anakin rushed over to Leia and swept her up in an enormous hug. "Are you hurt, honey?"

Leia started to cry as the shock wore off. She buried her head into Anakin's shoulder. Her small hands clutched his tunic in a desperate attempt to find solace. From the way she pointedly wouldn't look in the direction of the dead reek, Obi-Wan knew she had watched it die.

"Obi-Wan?" Luke asked hesitantly from where he stood behind the Jedi.

"Don't look, Luke," Obi-Wan said sternly as he wrapped the child in an embrace that enabled him to see nothing but his brown and beige clothes. "This is a sight that no one should see." The carcass of the reek stared at him with glossy, glassy eyes. Obi-Wan had seen death, even dealt death when it was unavoidable, but murder was a gruesome sight that haunted him anew every time he witnessed its brutality. It was an evil that children should not have to witness.

Luke didn't question his judgment, sensing that something was not right.

Anakin walked over to them, cradling Leia in his arms. Tears still leaked down her face in slow, steady streams, but she seemed calmer. She wiped her runny nose on her sleeve and hiccupped.

Obi-Wan turned around when the sound of hurried footsteps reached his ears. An out-of-breath worker hunched over as she tried to regulate her breathing. Between gasps, she asked, "What happened here? I was alerted on my comlink that a disturbance had occu—" She let out a cry as she saw the dead reek.

Anakin took it upon himself to explain the situation. He did so, in a terse manner. "The reek attacked my daughter. I killed it." He gazed at the zookeeper in a challenging way, as if daring her to question his judgment.

But the zookeeper wasn't looking at him and missed the stare. "How…?" she mumbled, "How could this possibly happen?"

Obi-Wan said sternly, "It's unwise and dangerous to put a reek in a petting zoo. While they aren't carnivores by nature, they are startled easily and their first instinct is to charge at the suspected enemy. Unsound decisions like this can lead to fatalities, and as a Jedi I cannot overlook this blunder. I ask to be allowed to survey the rest of the zoo and see if there are any more safety protocols being broken here. If I find any more hazards such as this reek—"

Finally, she drew her gaze away from the dead creature. She cut off Obi-Wan in mid-sentence. "But that's why I'm so astonished." At Obi-Wan's inquisitive look, she embellished her statement, "We _don't_ have reeks in the petting zoo. They're kept in an energy barrier near here. I'm at a loss of how he got out of his cage…" She shook her head and ran a hand through her hair.

Drawing a deep breath, she let it out and said in a more determined voice, "Allow me to transmit a few commands, and then I'll help you in any way possible." She mumbled some quick, nearly unintelligible instructions into her comlink. Soon five droids were at the scene; three to carry the body away and two to clean up the mess. "Sorry, but I don't want the tauntauns to become more agitated than they already are. By removing the body, hopefully they'll calm down. Now, what can I do for you?"

"I'd like to see the reek cage," Anakin said, purpose etched in every word of his.

The zookeeper didn't question his demand and dutifully led him to the reek cage. When they got there, the zookeeper's mouth formed an 'o' of understanding as she halted in her tracks.

Anakin leaned down to get a better look at the wrecked panel that, when properly functioning, would have kept the cage's shield up. The board was completely destroyed, scorch marks scarring the metal everywhere. Wires were torn, ripped out or cut. "Sabotage," Anakin declared, "just as I thought. The scorch marks seemed to be made by a blaster…DC-15, by the looks of it. The panel was destroyed and the barrier let down." He got up and stared at the scorched panel with a dark look.

"We can view the security camera footage and see if we can get a clear head-shot of the perpetrator," the zookeeper said.

"That won't be necessary," said Anakin. "I doubt that your recordings will hold anything of value."

The zookeeper looked puzzled. "But how can you be so certain of tha—"

"I said: _that won't be necessary_. Must I repeat myself?"—Anakin gave her a glare that had her quickly shutting up—"Obviously, this was not an accident. You are not dealing with a juvenile delinquent here, you are dealing with a cold, calculating _murderer_. While his methods are barbaric, I'm sure that he wouldn't be idiotic enough to be caught on camera."

"But still," she said mulishly, although she was turning whiter and whiter under Anakin's fierce look, "I'd like to go over the cameras and see if we can find anything on them."

"Well, I'm not going to wait around here while you do so," Anakin snapped, "Who knows what else will get out while you're going over hologram after hologram of absolutely nothing?"

She winced, but said, "I would feel much better knowing that we did everything in our power to right this wrong. If you are not willing to stay here while I go over the film, then can I please have your home number so that I can contact you if I find anything?"

Anakin stared at her with narrowed eyes for a moment, judging her in a way that made cold shivers run down her spine. "Very well, but you won't find anything," he said brusquely. After giving her his number, he stalked away towards the entrance and their hovercraft. Leia still clung to him, and Luke was trying to stay so close to his father that he actually stepped on Anakin's feet a couple times.

Obi-Wan had to jog to keep up with Anakin's long, angry strides. "Perhaps you were too hasty, Anakin. There could be something on those films that she thinks is irrelevant, but we could recognize as a clue… You were very abrupt with her, and she was just trying to be helpful."

"She was trying to cover up," Anakin said angrily. "She was trying to cover up the whole mess. If she were serious about finding the person who did this, she would have left the reek body there as evidence and offered to call the police first thing. Instead, she tried to hide her reluctance to make this attack public by saying she'd go through the surveillance camera footage, probably hoping that we'd be satisfied with that and let the matter drop. She just doesn't want other customers to know that their zoo almost housed the murder of a child. It would be bad for business, after all." He sneered. Once again, he repeated with certainty, "She won't find anything."

"How can you be so sure?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin stared grimly ahead. "Assassins are like shadows; they leave no trace of their existence once gone."


	4. Six

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block: **Pianissimo Butterfly by **Angrybee**. This is a Gravitation fic, so I'm not sure if you guys know about it…it's a Japanese animation, if you were wondering. It's rated R, is a completed fic with eleven wonderful chapters, and contains yaoi/slash. I admit, what first drew me was that I love the pairing Ryuichi/Shuichi. The second reason was the title, which I love. And the third reason why I couldn't stop reading this story…is Angrybee's writing. I don't know how she did it, but she managed to capture Ryuichi's fragility and caring nature. Ryuichi has mental problems, and with the story being written in first POV it creates a very strong impact. The first chapter lured me to read more, and the rest of the chapters hooked me. There are some great twists, _wonderful_ characterization, and an ending that's sad, yet at the same time satisfying. I cried at parts, I laughed at others, and I loved everything.

Well, last chapter had some lightness in it (even though a little darkness wormed its way into there at the end). After all, can't have too much of one thing, be it humor or seriousness. I try to balance the two, and hopefully I'm doing a good job of that. I actually had to write the reek death scene twice. The first time I wrote it, I reread it and thought that it sounded horrible. It was too choppy and short, with no details. So I extended the scene a bit, added some semi-gory details, and the scene became what it is now. I was much happier with it.

If you like Harry Potter, you'll find this interesting. I found this really funny HP site…its hard to explain, so you'd be better off just going to it. Even if you don't like Harry Potter, or don't know what I'm talking about (gasp!), you still may get a laugh or two out of this. I know that I was certainly laughing a lot. The internet address is: www .potterpuppetpals .com Just remove the spaces to get there. Also, during the second 'movie' thingie there's a secret scene. I have to tell you a spoiler, though, to explain how to get to the extra scene (just to warn you): when Snape is getting hit with Avada Kedavra, you need to pause the screen. Go forward one screen at a time until the green lights form a hybrid heart-star. Clink on that, and you get this funny little short clip involving Ron before being returned to the scene you left off.

The reviews I received were very much loved and appreciated. If you find any mistakes, please tell me and I'll try to fix them.

**Page Amount:** 8

**Word Count: **6,471

Started 7-3-05, written on 7-4, and finished 7-5-05

Listening to: Adema & Crossfade: Crossfade

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Four**: Six_

The ride back to the Temple was made in strained silence. It was understandable, given the circumstances. Anakin kept his thoughts to himself, a dark look on his face; Obi-Wan wondered over and worried about the events that had just occurred; and Leia and Luke understood too much and too little, as was the ways of children.

As Anakin landed in the hanger of the Temple, Obi-Wan gave him a meaningful look. He understood its meaning; Obi-Wan wanted to talk to him alone. "Stay in the speeder, kids, this'll just take a minute or two," he told them. He got out of the hovercraft with Obi-Wan. "Yes?" he asked Obi-Wan once they were out in the open, away from the children's inquisitive ears. He stood in front of Obi-Wan, hands folded across his chest.

Understandably, he was in a very bad mood and had no patience with which to mince words.

It was now or never, Obi-Wan knew. He had an obligation to fulfill to Yoda. And he knew, somehow, that this was the right thing to do, the right course of action. He would help the Jedi…and maybe in some inexplicable way he would also help Anakin regain the part of his soul that had been consumed by Darth Vader. At the very least, living with the Skywalkers would better the twins' lives. Having gone through his reasons, he felt able to express himself and set the plan into motion.

"Anakin…after seeing Leia almost killed," he stopped for a moment and tried to regain his composure. He spoke with real emotion, and he found it more difficult to find the right words than he first assumed. Even with a steady goal in mind, this was challenging for him. He started again softly, "I'm beginning to realize just how much I care about the twins. And today…I witnessed firsthand just how much you love your children. I understand now that you're just trying to give them the best. Sometimes I disagree with your methods, but I know that you have a good heart. That's why…"

Obi-Wan took another deep breath, nearly faltering; Anakin's face remained neutral, border lining on impatience, as it had during the entire one-sided conversation. It made speaking even more difficult for Obi-Wan. He felt his throat tightening up at that penetrating gaze, and knew if he didn't speak soon he wouldn't be able to at all, and then this opportunity would be lost…possibly for good.

Finally, he ended in a rushed voice, "That's why I was wondering if I could still accept your offer to live with you."

Anakin stared at him.

Obi-Wan began to get nervous. "I mean, just so I can be near the children and make sure they've got everything they need. I'd just be another pair of eyes and hands to help take care of them…" At Anakin's continued silence, Obi-Wan ventured to ask hesitantly, "Is this the silence of refusal?" A small spark of panic incited in Obi-Wan: what if Anakin knew that Yoda had contacted him, and that his sudden friendliness had ulterior motives?

What if he refused?

Anakin shook his head, the action causing his stoic expression to break away and reveal the enormous smile underneath. "No…no, I'm extremely happy… I'm just trying to figure out if this is real, or just a really, really, _really_ nice dream." He grin became even larger, flashing white teeth, and he let out a small, disbelieving laugh. "Someone pinch me."

Even though Obi-Wan was still extremely nervous, he couldn't resist such a direct request (his sense of humor wouldn't allow him to pass up such an opportunity). He pinched Anakin's arm with a "there you go."

Anakin rubbed his arm and said in a wounded voice, "That hurt."

Obi-Wan shrugged his shoulders and helpfully supplied, "Well, you asked me to, and I couldn't abandon you in your time of need."

"I didn't really mean it in the literal sense"—he received another shrug and smile from Obi-Wan for this comment—"but that definitely proves that I'm awake, and you're in your right mind. Only you would do something like that, Obi." Anakin omitted the fact that anyone else, besides his children, wouldn't have lived long enough to fear the consequences; and because 'anyone else' knew this none of them were suicidal enough to try a stunt like Obi-Wan's. Obi, like always, was the special case.

Obi-Wan muscles relaxed; he felt the small spurt of panic extinguish within him before it even took complete hold on him. It seemed he and his secret were safe…for now.

"Well…Leia and Luke act like that too, sometimes…" Anakin drifted off, suggestion thick in his voice.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Obi-Wan demanded in a mock-haughty voice, "Are you suggesting that my intelligence is that of a four year old?"

"No," Anakin said sweetly.

"Good." Obi-Wan nodded his head in satisfaction, though his eyes showed that he was still waiting for the jibe to come.

"Only your social skills." Anakin laughed as Obi-Wan glared at him. "But, on a more serious note," Anakin said, the light mood diminishing in his eyes but not fading entirely, "I gladly welcome you into the family."—he clasped Obi-Wan's hand tightly in his slightly larger ones—"You don't know how much this means to me."

Obi-Wan observed the sincerity in Anakin's eyes and responded to that truth with his own: "Probably not…but I think I'm beginning to get an understanding of it." He spoke slowly, with gravity and honesty.

Anakin smiled at Obi-Wan's seriousness, knowing he was being truthful. He didn't need the Force to tell him this (although he was using it); Obi-Wan's eyes, posture, and choice of words told him so. He knew how to read the older man like a book. "Well, do you have any bags packed?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, this is sort of a spur-of-the-moment action, surprising as it may be. After all, it is coming from someone like me. The actions of today just…" Once again, he drifted off. He waved his hand vaguely in the air, unable to find the proper words for once. Finally, as the air offered no answers, he settled with, "They made me revaluate my concepts and values."

Anakin laughed. "That's the first time I've ever been thankful for an attempt on my life."

"Speaking of the subject…does that happen often?" Obi-Wan asked, concern in his voice. "Assassination attempts, I mean."

"Sometimes, sometimes not," was the evasive answer Obi-Wan got. Anakin shrugged dismissingly. "There are many people who I'm sure would like to see me dead. Now, about packing…do you want to throw some things in a bag and get the rest later, or would you rather take the time to pack everything at once and then come to my house on some later date? I can assist you if you need help."

Obi-Wan thought for a moment. "I'm sure that I can pack all my personal possessions easily on my own; I don't have many to begin with. I'll leave the rest at the Temple, since I'll be traveling back and forth often." At Anakin's shadowed look Obi-Wan said in a partially angry, mostly irritated voice, "I will not abandon those children! I will continue to teach the younglings, and I assure you that my room in the Jedi Temple will not go to waste."

"I never said anything about you leaving the Temple permanently," Anakin said smoothly, his face shifting back into a neutral state that told Obi-Wan more than anything else that he had been thinking exactly that.

Obi-Wan tugged and flattened his beige tunic, mentally berating himself for the outburst. This was a delicate situation, and he had to be careful with what he said. In a calmer tone he apologized, "I'm sorry, but the look you sent me gave me that impression…I must have misread it. You know how protective I am of the younglings, and because of that I can get unreasonably defensive at times… I'm sure you know the feeling yourself, having two children of your own."

Anakin smiled. "Parenthood."

"It's a blessing and a curse," was Obi-Wan's response. "Resuming our former topic, I'll go through my possessions and pack them right now. Do you mind waiting for me—or should I say, will the _twins_ mind?"

"And with that question you once again return us to the latter topic. I'm sure that I'll be able to entertain the kids for a while—just don't take too long. There's only so many times I can play 'I spy' or 'Twenty Questions' before going crazy. And I've almost reached the quota for this week."

Obi-Wan was already trotting off towards the Temple. He yelled back at Anakin, "I'll keep that in mind!" He struck a brisk pace once in the Temple, and as he ran through the halls adrenaline ran through his veins. His heart quicken, thumping noisily in its ribbed cage.

For a brief moment, Obi-Wan wondered if this was how Anakin felt when first asked to spy on Chancellor Palpatine (now the current Sith ruler—proving that the Jedi Council _was_ right in wanting to monitor the Chancellor's actions). He dismissed the thought. Unlike Anakin, he didn't doubt the principles of his actions. He understood that while certain parts of the Jedi Code clashed with the duties of a spy, neither the Jedi Code nor espionage ways were wrong. The duties simply required different points of views; they could coexist within a person if that person knew how to compromise between morality and duty. Where Anakin failed to understand this difference Obi-Wan easily accepted. He was older and more experienced with the ways of the galaxy; it was expected that he knew more. If it was for the greater good, he could spy on a friend.

He could do this, he reassured himself.

Obi-Wan made his way to his room without meeting anyone, a fact for which he was grateful. He wasn't exactly sure how to explain his situation, and he _knew_ that he didn't want to see the looks on his young students' faces if he had to tell them the bad news. Undoubtedly he'd be faced with accusing looks and sadness, and he just wasn't up for that right now. It would be better for him to explain everything on some later date, once they had time to get over their initial shock and meditate on the matter. He was much better in dealing with the rational.

Throwing a suitcase onto the bed, he began to pull out clothes from drawers and place them in the bag. All of his outfits were the same: the standard Jedi outfit that consisted of a simple beige tunic and brown robe. It was unobtrusive and blended into any environment, allowed free physical movement, and took a beating without tearing. For four long years, Obi-Wan had believed himself to be the last living Jedi. He had worn his Jedi outfit though the clothes weighed heavy on him, reminding him that he was the last of a dying race. That he was alone.

But now the outfit signified the hope that the Jedi Order could be revived in some distant future.

After he was done with the assignment given to him by Yoda, he would go far, far away. He would regret leaving Anakin and the twins, but he would have to if he intended to survive; Anakin was the Emperor's lapdog and couldn't be trusted. Perhaps he'd find some way to bring the younglings along and establish a secret Jedi Temple on one of the Outer Rim planets…perhaps there were habitable planets beyond the Outer Rim waiting to be found, places no one knew of…places that were uncharted and free from the mechanical grasp of the Empire.

He smiled as he packed an extra pair of brown boots into the suitcase. Free from the Empire…that would be nice.

He stuffed in the suitcase a toothbrush, hairbrush, mirror, and a few other small oddities (namely the equipment he needed for spying) he found lying around. But other, more important objects he left in the closet: his rebreather, an old, well-worn picture of him and Qui-Gon, and all the money he had been slowly but steadily saving up over the past four years. These were but a few of the items scattered at the bottom of his closet, objects he had used in the old days when he was a Jedi Master and not just a Jedi survivor.

He had suspicions that Anakin would view these items with displeasure if he knew of their existence, and that they would begin to inexplicably disappear one by one if he brought them with him. It was best for them to stay here, hidden.

He looked fondly at the picture of him and Qui-Gon, patted the money, and threw tattered robes and clothes over everything. He had found out long ago that the less one tried to hide something, the more people overlooked it. And he wanted these objects to be overlooked; he had hopes and plans for them.

Obi-Wan walked out of his room carrying his medium-sized suitcase. He had been mostly honest with Anakin (something that seemed to happen very often): he had very few personal possessions that he wanted to bring with him. On his way to the exit, a child's voice stopped him.

"Master Obi-Wan…?" A small human child, native to Coruscant (one of the reasons why Obi-Wan had been able to find him and bring him to the Temple), stood behind him, looking at him questioningly. A broken wooden stick was cradled in his small, calloused hands.

"Yes, Tarren?" Obi-Wan asked patiently, setting his suitcase down to give the Jedi pupil his full attention.

"I was just coming to find you because I broke another wooden sword…" Tarren held out the two pieces as physical proof. "I was just practicing the forms you taught us when Darrien joined me, and we started to duel… I didn't mean to swing hard enough to break it," he ended with an odd combination of defensiveness and sheepishness.

"Don't be so embarrassed, Tarren. You should be commended, not scolded, for practicing extra hours." Obi-Wan gave Tarren an encouraging smile, and Tarren stood a little straighter under the praise. "Come with me, and I'll get you another one out of the equipment room." Obi-Wan left his suitcase in the middle of the hallway; he had no fears that it would be taken or disturbed in any way.

They walked down long, winding hallways until they made their way to a corridor that was harder to find than most, yet looked identical. Inconspicuous. The door to the small custodian room was easily overlooked, being unmarked and off to the side. Obi-Wan opened the unremarkable door and walked past all the cleaning supplies that cluttered the shelves. A web was in the corner of one of the shelves and the breeze created by his body disturbed its inhabitant, causing the spider to scurry away to a new hiding place behind a bottle of bleach. In the back of the room were six large, portable (if one could truly call the bulky objects 'portable') storage closets. They looked like the kind of closet used to store cleaning equipment, but Obi-Wan knew better. In this case, their appearance was deceptive.

He took a set of keys off his belt and unlocked the farthest right storage closet. It contained heaps of wooden swords, all of them stacked messily inside it. There were a variety of different swords, everything from double-bladed to single, long to short, sturdy to elegant, and each was made from different woods, depending on what timber best suited its purpose. Obi-Wan took one of the single-bladed swords from the pile and handed it to Tarren.

Tarren took the sword and said "thank you" with gratitude in his voice. After Obi-Wan locked the closet again—when he turned around to leave the equipment room—he was met with Tarren's hesitant, inquisitive look.

"Do you have a question, Tarren?" Obi-Wan asked calmly before waiting for a response. If what Tarren wanted to ask was important enough, he would tell Obi-Wan when he was ready.

"Yes…" Tarren admitted after a while, shifting his wooden sword from hand to hand in agitation. But a change came over his features and resolve steadied his hand. He stopped shuffling the sword back and forth, instead holding it firmly in his right hand. "When are we going to use _real_ lightsabers? Even training lightsabers would be better than these splinters!"

"You need to control your impatience, Padawan," Obi-Wan said gently. Tarren, being young, easily got impatient when forced to wait. Obi-Wan worried about these outbursts Tarren had, and because of that made sure to give him extra attention and guidance whenever possible. Sometimes, as it had been with Anakin, there were moments that Obi-Wan felt overwhelmed and at a loss; that he simply didn't have the right manner to teach such a demanding personality. "I asked just the other day if the Jedi Temple could start using training lightsabers—"

"And?" Tarren interrupted eagerly.

"—And I was firmly denied," Obi-Wan finished sternly. "The Empire is adamant about restricting what I can teach. Instead of wanting more you should be thankful for what we have. These wooden swords serve their purpose perfectly fine, and you should be satisfied with that. I went through a lot of trouble to buy them without the Empire's knowledge. If I were to argue heatedly with the Empire about our right to bear arms, they would send security guards here in fear of a rebellion. And in their searches they would discover our wooden swords and confiscate them. Then we'd not only be without weapons—and no matter how childish you think they are, these wooden swords _are_ weapons—but we'd also be watched with such scrutiny afterwards that any other transgressions on our part would be dealt with in a brutal manner."

"But at this rate we'll never get anything!" Tarren blustered angrily, "We need to strike them _now_, when they aren't expecting it. Take too long, and they'll become suspicious. And once their guard's up we'd have a better chance fighting a black hole!"

"Patience, Tarren, and wait for the right moment…you mustn't let your anger cloud your judgment. Never forget that we guard the _peace_. We do not attack the enemy unreasonably; we protect the innocent."

"Isn't it all the same?" scowled Tarren. "We're still fighting the bad guys."

"There is a great difference between murder and killing in self-defense." Obi-Wan gave Tarren a reproved look. Tarren broke the stare first, turning his gaze down to his new sword, the wood gleaming with a light polish. He shuffled his feet, uncomfortable with Obi-Wan's blunt reprimand, and the meaning behind the words.

"I'm sorry, Master Obi-Wan. I'll try harder to be patient."

Obi-Wan put a companionable hand on Tarren's shoulder. "You'll become a fine Jedi some day."

Tarren looked up at him, hope shining in his eyes. "You really think so?"

"I have no doubts of it," Obi-Wan said solemnly. "If you remember to follow the Jedi Code and continue practicing with such determination, I know that you'll grow up to be an honorable Jedi. Now, I must go—"

"Go where?" Tarren asked. He shrugged off Obi-Wan's hand and took a few steps back. This allowed him to stand face-to-face (as much as a five-year-old could when facing a full-grown adult) with Obi-Wan and observe all of his teacher's facial expressions. "I saw your bag, but I wasn't sure so I didn't say anything…it just didn't seem possible that you would ever leave us…"

"Tarren…" Obi-Wan sighed. "My living arrangements have changed; I'm no longer going to be living in the Temple. However," Obi-Wan said, cutting off Tarren's protest, "I will be returning here everyday, if possible, and I'll continue teaching you and the other younglings. Since I cannot be at the Temple all the time, I'm trusting you with these six keys. Don't let anyone know that you have them, much less what they open…I don't want the other younglings to be tempted to unlock these storage closets. You should only use the farthest right one, and that's only for the purpose of getting out wooden swords and other supplies that are not exactly…permitted…by the Empire for your training. This is a grave responsibility, and I expect you to carry it out as a Jedi."

Tarren took the keys and shoved them into his tunic's pocket. He looked up at Obi-Wan with first amazement in his eyes, then determination. "You can trust me to defend these keys with my life, Master Obi-Wan." The strong look and posture faded for a second as Tarren ventured to ask, "But what are in the other storage closets?"

"…It's for the best that you don't know what are in the others, Tarren. Some of these closets were locked even when the Jedi were at their greatest. Just know that in the case of an emergency, the three farthest on the left should be unlocked. _But only if your life is being threatened_."

The wooden swords were in the closet on the farthest right; now Tarren's gaze fell on the three farthest left. That left two closets un-described. Tarren opened his mouth to ask about the other two, but a feeling kept him quiet. They loomed in his mind as twin, dark shadows. He found that if he stared at them long enough, they seemed to bulge with the secrets crammed inside. He could almost swear that he detected a slight shiver from the two doors, the curved, metal handle twisting ever so slightly…

He blinked and looked away, disliking the illusions his mind presented him. He instinctively knew that there were dark, forbidden things within those closets…they were, and held, unspoken secrets. "I understand, Master Obi-Wan."

"I'm trusting you to look after your comrades also. Protect the Temple in my absence; I will sleep better knowing so. I believe in your abilities, Tarren. May the Force be with you." With that, Obi-Wan gave Tarren a fleeting smile before rushing out, fearing that Anakin would be suspicious if he lingered any longer.

Tarren watched Obi-Wan run off in a flurry of brown robes. He fingered the six keys hidden in his pocket and glanced at the six storage closets before him. Then he walked slowly, almost reluctantly, out of the room. In his right hand he limply held the wooden sword; his left was still in his pocket, cradling the responsibility Obi-Wan had entrusted to him.

The intruders gone, the spider resumed its waiting on the web.

* * *

Obi-Wan grabbed his suitcase and hurried to the entrance. He had some misgivings about leaving such a large responsibility with such a young person (giving Tarren keys to unknown closets could be too tempting for the young boy, as it could be with anyone), but Obi-Wan knew that to incite loyalty and trust he first had to give it. Tarren was a good lad, if a little impatient, and he never let a person down if he could help it. He bore responsibility well; it was boredom that was his undoing. Once again, Obi-Wan was struck by the shadowy similarities between Tarren and the person Anakin had been as youngling, but he shoved the thought aside. He did not want to imagine Tarren meeting the same fate as Anakin.

Drifting to better thoughts, Obi-Wan allowed himself a smile. If nothing else, Qui-Gon would be proud of him for his actions today—he was finally acting on impulse. But if he wasn't careful, those impulses could get the best of him: he was a firm believer that planning was the key to success—impulses and luck could only get a person so far before they failed. Now planning…a person could go places with that.

Obi-Wan made his way to the Temple Hanger in good time, but he was a little winded due to jogging. He tried to conceal the fact as Anakin greeted him; there was no need for Anakin to notice his slightly harried state. If he did, he might come to the conclusion that Obi-Wan had done more than just pack. Anakin opened the trunk of the hovercraft, then took Obi-Wan's suitcase out of his hands.

"I thought I really was going to go crazy…we played 'Twenty Questions' until my brain nearly exploded. And believe me, it takes more than just twenty questions to find the answer… So, what took you so long?" He asked casually. "Have trouble packing? You should have asked me for help, if you were running into difficulties."

Obi-Wan watched Anakin lug his suitcase into the trunk, trying to gauge if Anakin's question was one of curiosity or suspicion. Obi-Wan decided on curiosity, and answered with a shadow of the truth. "I met up with one of my students, and I had to explain to him that I was going to live someplace else. He didn't take that very well, but when I explained to him that I would be visiting regularly he was a bit more accepting of the idea."

"I can understand that that would take a while," Anakin said sympathetically. "I sometimes have trouble explaining to Leia and Luke why I have to leave them when I go on trips. They just don't understand, or don't want to."

"So you travel a lot…where do you?" Obi-Wan questioned. "Any place exotic?"

Anakin shrugged. "Here and there. No place in particular, and nowhere real special. To be truthful, I'm normally missing home too much to enjoy myself. In all honesty, it's a bit depressing just thinking about it."

"Well, then let's get off the gloomy topics," Obi-Wan said, "as I'm rather tired of them myself, and I'm sure Leia and Luke don't want to have to share a hovercraft with two rain clouds."

"Too true, too true. Let's get going. I'm sure that they're as impatient to get home as I am. I'm certain that you'll find the accommodations to be to your liking. I admit that we live a very comfortable life style."

"Come now, Anakin, you don't have to be so modest," Obi-Wan protested good-naturedly. "I'm sure that your life-style goes beyond mere 'comfort' and stretches into luxury."

"I just didn't want to sound stuffy," Anakin admitted. "But yeah, I would have to agree with you."

"Why else did you think that I agreed to this? I was tired of living in that dingy little room," Obi-Wan joked.

"And here I thought it was because you loved my—along with Leia and Luke's—company so much," Anakin joshed right back. "If it's going to be that way, I might as well throw you and your suitcase out of this hovercraft before we even take off. I don't accept freeloaders, you know."

Obi-Wan waved off his weak threat and said, "Just do your job, chauffer." As Obi-Wan got into the hovercraft, he heard Anakin grumble "it's only been three minutes and he's already treating me like the kids do." He couldn't help but smile at that.

Anakin quickly got into the driver seat and buckled up. "Kids, are you buckled?" He looked back at them and saw them hurriedly putting on seatbelts. He smirked and said, "I thought so. See, Obi? I can be a responsible parent too."—Anakin glanced over at Obi-Wan—"…What was that look for?"

Obi-Wan threw his hands up in surrender. "There was no 'look,' Anakin."

"No, no, there was," Anakin said pointedly. "That incredulous look, like an 'Oh, I'm not going to trust my life in his hands—he's crazy!' look. It's that look you get whenever I say I'll drive carefully or that I have a plan."

Obi-Wan smiled serenely and folded his arms into his Jedi tunic. "A Jedi is complacent and accommodating. We do not give 'looks.' "

Anakin gave Obi-Wan one last suspicious glance before starting the hovercraft. "Sure," he snorted out.

Obi-Wan couldn't help adding, "Except when it involves your driving."

Obi-Wan soon found out that it was not a smart idea to insult the driver, particularly when the person driving was Anakin Skywalker. By the time they got to Anakin's home, Obi-Wan was weak in the knees. He felt the hovercraft settle on the landing pad and nearly cried in happiness. As Leia and Luke scampered out cheerfully, Obi-Wan tried to separate his clenched hands from his seatbelt.

Anakin smiled sweetly as he watched Obi-Wan's futile struggles. "Pleasant travels?"

"I don't know how your children can be immune to such horrors."

Shrugging, Anakin explained, "Experience."

Obi-Wan was still a little pale in the face, but he finally managed to tear his hands from the seatbelt. Getting out of the hovercraft, followed closely by a hovering Anakin, Obi-Wan said shakily, "I pity them."

"Well, I don't think they pity you at all," Anakin pointed out, gesturing helpfully at Leia and Luke. "They seem to be amusing themselves by making fun of you and your flying-sickness." And indeed, Leia was staggering around and clutching at her heart as Luke stood by, laughing his head off.

Trying to frown at them before giving up (the twins were too cute to be angry at…not to mention he still felt too queasy to work up the energy to be irritated), Obi-Wan said with a sigh, "It's just too hard to be disapproving right now."

Anakin smiled, before checking his watch. "You know, I'd love to stay and continue this conversation, but I have an appointment to make. I'm sorry that I can't settle you in and give you the official tour, but I'm sure that Leia and Luke would love to show you around. In fact, I'm sure that they'd be ecstatic. The top three floors are the living quarters—topmost of that is the greenhouse garden with the other two levels acting as a two-story house—and the two floors right below those are empty, and the rest of the building is for business."

Obi-Wan stared at the enormous building in front of them. He had to crane his head back just to catch a slight view of the top. "Wait a minute…you mean you own _all_ of that building?" His voice was mingled with awe and disbelief.

"All fifty-three floors." Anakin grinned and laughed at Obi-Wan's surprised expression. "I like my work close to me so I can keep an eye on it. Besides, I love watching people's expressions when I first tell them that I own 'all of that building,' as you so eloquently put it." Anakin clapped a friendly hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder before saying, "I bid you adieu. Hopefully I'll be back soon—try not to be too overwhelmed in the mean time."

Obi-Wan didn't even try to think up a comeback as Anakin jumped into the speeder and drove off.

Leia and Luke ran past Obi-Wan to the very edge of the platform, waving madly until Anakin's hovercraft was well out of view. Returning with heavier feet, Leia sighed and complained in a whiny voice, "Did Daddy go off on business _again_?"

Luke gave a sigh of his own. "Don't ask stupid questions: he's _always_ on business."

Leia huffed and gave her brother a dirty look, her arms crossed over her chest in a defensive stance.

Obi-Wan didn't know what to say about Anakin's abrupt departure, so instead he decided to change the subject (hopefully to a lighter topic, and before a fight could ensue between the warring siblings). "Well, Anakin told me that you two were in charge of giving me the grand tour of this enormous…" Obi-Wan waved his hand at the grandeur in front of him, fishing around for the right word before ending weakly, "thing."

Leia giggled and took him by the hand, tugging. "Why are you so shocked, Obi-Waaan? There are bigger buildings around here."

"Yes…but none—to the extent of my knowledge, at least—that are owned by a single person." Obi-Wan allowed himself to be led by Leia. "I can honestly say that I am speechless."

"For a speechless person you sure have a way with words." Luke smiled.

Obi-Wan grinned back. "Well, you understand the idea I was trying to convey…I meant it in a proverbial sense, not a literal one."

"Proverbial…" Leia's forehead scrunched up in concentration. "Nope, don't know that word." She shrugged it off, and before Obi-Wan could give a longwinded explanation of the word's meaning she was sprinting away. "Race you to the elevator!" she yelled over her shoulder. Luke quickly accepted her challenge and started to chase her.

Fearing that he would be lost in the labyrinths of hallways and floors if he didn't keep up with them, Obi-Wan jogged after them, his suitcase in tow. It banged against his leg and knocked into his heel several painful times. "Really, you two need to slow down! I can't run very well while dragging this huge thing behind me…" Obi-Wan finally caught up to them, breathing heavily as he leaned on the wall. 'I really am getting out of shape…' he mused, slightly disturbed by the revelation.

"Obi-Wan's the loser!" Leia crowed, clapping her hands and skipping around his suitcase singing "loser, loser, Obi-Wan's a loser."

The elevator doors opened, and Obi-Wan was thankful that its _ding_ ended his torture. As they got in and the doors closed, Leia resumed her singsong chant.

Obi-Wan corrected himself: all he had managed to do was lock himself in with his tormentor (not a very good call). Trying to distract Leia from her single-minded pursuit of completely humiliating him, and knowing this may provide him with vital information, Obi-Wan asked, "So what are on all these floors?"

Luke spoke up from his corner. "The top three are for us."

"I know that much—your father mentioned that before leaving—but what are the rest used for?"

The young boy shook his head, blonde hair falling into his face. "Business."

Frowning slightly, Obi-Wan said mildly, "Well, that's not a very specific answer."

Luke shrugged. "I don't see anything worth talking about—it's just work. I don't want to think about stuff like that," he said as he scrunched up his nose in dislike. "I like gardening better…do you want to see my greenhouse garden?"

"_Your_ greenhouse garden?" Leia butted in, using a reproachful tone. "It's not just _your_ garden, Luke. I've seen Threepio in there every day, watering and caring for those plants. He does just as much work as you do and he should get some credit for it!"

Luke scowled and pushed his sister. "Shut up. You're just jealous because whatever you try to grow dies. It's probably cause you're stupid enough to drown every last one of them." Leia shrieked in indignation as she pushed Luke back. It had become a full blown-out shoving melee before Obi-Wan even processed the fact, and it took him another moment to gather his senses and stop it from escalating even further.

"Leia, Luke, calm down!" When he had gotten the children to stop physically harming each other he went on with his lecture: "You two should be ashamed of yourselves! Fighting over the silliest things… Luke, you shouldn't have told your sister to 'shut up.' It's not a nice phrase, and it's one that I never want to hear from you again. And calling people 'stupid' is wrong. You could hurt someone's feelings with that."

Leia stuck her tongue out at Luke, but this was before Obi-Wan rounded on her—when he did so, she shut her mouth quickly and looked ashamed. "And _you_, Leia. You were very rude to Luke. He was just trying to tell me about the garden and you start harping on him for the smallest details. Maybe if you'd given him _time_ to clarify all the little details, he would have explained all this to me. Interrupting us in the middle of a conversation without asking first was disrespectful.

"Now, I want you both to apologize to each other."

Leia and Luke muttered halfhearted apologies to each other, less remorse than shame in them.

Obi-Wan rubbed his temples and thought to himself, 'Now I understand why Anakin left in such a hurry.' He was reminded of the disagreements that broke out in the Temple occasionally (which was more often than he would like to admit). However, the difference was that those children were disciples of the Force and trained to control their emotions while Leia and Luke were simply two children. Frankly, Obi-Wan bet he had a better chance of surviving against eleven Jedi trainees than two wild, unruly children.

Said children were now pouting and scowling in opposite corners. It would almost be comical, watching their expressions, if Obi-Wan wasn't so worried… Anakin hadn't even bothered to teach them meditation skills (he could tell this by their childish fighting; mediation would have matured them a bit) and they were already four standard years old. They both were sensitive to the Force, he could sense that, and if their connection turned out to be as strong as their father's they would need proper training. Obi-Wan feared what would happen to them later on in life if they let their emotions, and therefore the Force, run rampant within them. They could become destructive to not only others but to themselves. It was recklessness on Anakin's part.

When they got off the elevator Leia and Luke were slightly calmer. The time it took to walk down the short hallway had made their small squabble nearly forgotten, with the exception of Obi-Wan. At the end of the small, empty corridor stood a single, sturdy durasteel door. A hand-scanner flipped out from its discreet hiding place by the entrance and Leia put her hand palm-first into it. "Daddy's real strict about security…this hand-scanner will only accept Luke's, Daddy's, and my handprint. But once you get past this the rest of this floor and up is the house!"

Obi-Wan also noted that a camera followed their movements, curling around on its flexible stem to catch any movement on their part. Its cyclops eye stared unblinkingly at him, its lens flexing and zooming in on his face. He observed all of the extreme (from his point of view) security measures Anakin had taken. If the security was even stronger on the rest of the floors—and since they held business, Obi-Wan bet they would be—he would have to be extra careful about where and how he went about spying…

"Come on, slowpokes, we've got a lot of ground to cover!" Leia yelled cheerfully as she raced through the door. Luke, holding Obi-Wan's hand, followed Leia's bouncy footsteps with a slightly more cautious stride that suited Obi-Wan just fine.


	5. Repression

**Reposted 9-12-05:** Thank you, **LZfOx1379**, for telling me that there was a grammar mistake in this chapter. I did find something, but since you didn't specify particularly _what_ the mistake was, I'm not sure if it's what you were talking about or something else entirely. XD So I apologize if I didn't catch the mistake you mentioned, but hey, I found and fixed _a_ mistake, if not all of them. XD

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block: **Raspberry Heaven by **Falaphesian**. This is PG-13, a Kingdom Hearts fic (an awesome PS2 game which I have beaten -does a happy dance-) and involves shojo-ai (otherwise known as fem-slash). There's also a tad bit of shonen-ai (slash), but the main story revolves around the shojo-ai. I thought I'd suggest a shojo-ai story here for a change in pace. Even if you're never read a fic like this before, I highly suggest you to at least try this one. There's some great character development in here, and I love Falaphesian's constant reference to music. It adds a nice touch to everything.

Well, the last chapter moved the plot along. I tried to do that without making it boring, and I hoped it worked. You know, the last chapter wasn't really meant to be anything big—just showing you how Obi-Wan used the reek attack to his advantage to get close to Anakin—but somehow I managed to accidentally introduce a new character and a subplot. I love it when creative accidents like that happen.

Oh yeah, Tarren and Darrien are creations of moi. I hope the original characters didn't scare anyone off…I try to use real characters when possible, but honestly…all the younglings were killed when Anakin stormed the Temple. So I had to create my own. Nyah.

Everyone who reviewed, thank you so much! Hugs for all of you! I love reading about what you think about the chapter—just how you view the characters, what you think about the plot. Honestly, sometimes you understand better what I'm trying to express in my writing than what I do myself. A few names have already started to pop up consistently (you know who you are. ;) A special thanks for you guys!), and I hope you continue to enjoy the story. For the new readers, I hope you find this story interesting.

Thanks again for the reviews: you make my day. If you find any mistakes, please tell me. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

**Page Amount: **6

**Word Count: **5,493

Started 7-6-05, written on 7-10, and finished 7-11-05

Listening to: Breaking Benjamin: We Are Not Alone

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Five**: Repression_

Anakin entered the former Galactic Republic building, determination and anger building up inside of him. His stony gaze warned those around him that he was _not_ in the mood to humor idiotic requests or greetings. The glare was intense enough that even acquaintances—he would never call them _friends_—veered away intentionally to give him a wide berth. Even though he wanted this response from them, practically demanding it with his hostile attitude, he still sneered inwardly at their cowardly actions. Normally, he would savor this feeling of power, given to him by the treatment he received and the fear he felt. But he knew that today, with the mood he was in, nothing any of these lowlifes did would be good enough. If they talked to him they were stupid—not brave; if they did the opposite and ignored him they were spineless—not wise.

Aggravation rolled off him in waves, and every imbecile that timidly tiptoed around him just made his irritation worsen. Which furthered their timidity, which only furthered his anger even more. He knew that he was working himself up, but even the knowledge of this did nothing to stop the action.

He stepped into an empty elevator, and it remained empty—no one dared to disturb him. He and Palpatine—Anakin's lips curled into a slight snarl at that name, the word instantly connected to the feeling 'hate'—were the holders of power here, and people knew that. While the Galactic Senate remained intact (renamed the Imperial Senate) it had no power. The true purpose of the Imperial Senate was to have representatives from every planet in the galaxy on Coruscant. Not only did it remind the planets that the Empire had control over them, but it made it easier to keep an eye on even the Outer Rim systems. A rebellion would be hard to foster if their representatives on Coruscant could be 'persuaded' to betray their friends.

The elevator came to a stop on the top floor and Anakin stalked towards Chancellor Palpatine's red room. He walked so fast that the air stirred around him, causing his black robe to billow out behind him. He made an imposing, dark figure.

There were guards posted outside of Palpatine's doors, but they didn't stir even as he neared the room with obvious intent to enter. Instead of stopping him, quite the opposite happened; they respectfully nodded their heads toward him in acknowledgement before acting as if he were invisible, allowing him entry though they had been instructed otherwise. Anakin barged into the room boldly, coming to a halt right in front of Palpatine's desk. His robe gave one last flutter before coiling around his feet, the movement and wind gone.

Chancellor Palpatine was sitting in his red velvet chair, talking softly with his two main advisors, Janus Greejatus and Sim Aloo. Anakin's disrespectful arrival had been unexpected, and the conversation abruptly ceased. One to always take control of the situation and deal with the unexpected calmly, Palpatine dismissed his advisors with a casual wave of his hand. They left quickly, like silent wraiths with their somber expressions and dark robes.

Leaning forward in his chair while lacing his hands together, he asked Anakin coolly, "May I ask the meaning of this interruption, Lord Vader?" The slight surprise that had accompanied Anakin's barging in was gone, replaced by a layer of infinite calm and thoughtfulness.

The act nearly tricked Anakin, and for a moment he wondered if he had imagined the brief astonishment in Palpatine's eyes. He angrily reined in such self-doubts. He was not going to fall for Palpatine's mind games.

"You know very well why I'm here," Anakin hissed out. He stood stiff and straight, towering over Palpatine's desk and sitting form.

"I'm afraid I don't, Lord Vader. But if you were to elaborate…" He waved one hand elegantly, demonstrating that he wished Anakin to explain. The single, tasteful ring on his right hand glinted in the rays issuing from the ceiling lights. The white gold ring had been a gift from the Senate to the Chancellor, to commemorate the birth of the Empire. The Chancellor had accepted the gift graciously, modestly protesting that the Senate deserved this more than him; but later on Anakin had glimpsed him examining his ring, chuckling good-humoredly at a joke privy only to him. The Chancellor's white hair matched his ring's color, as did his pale skin, as did his colorless eyes. Everything about him seemed washed out, even his humanity. The only color remaining was the crimson of his robes.

The calm, concerned expression never left his lined face, like a well-placed mask.

Anakin stared at him for a moment, gritting his teeth. He should have known that Palpatine would handle this situation as he did all others—with false innocence, curiosity, and concern. "Ever the diplomat, aren't you, _Chancellor_ Palpatine? Why do you keep that ridiculous title, 'Chancellor'? It is obvious to see that you have no dealings with justice."

"I'm surprised and disappointed with you, Lord Vader," Palpatine said in a condescending voice, as if cajoling a small child. "I keep the title Chancellor because I have no need to create another official one—I have too many unofficial names as it is. Besides, the Imperial Senate is used to thinking of me as 'the Chancellor,' and I wouldn't want to upset their opinion of me by altering my title."

"Such a kind way to say that you don't want to disillusion your weak-minded followers." Anakin gave a stiff smile that was more teeth than friendliness. "Even though one could say that your attempts are in vain. Behind closed doors all the whispers already call you 'Emperor.' "

Palpatine didn't respond; there was no need to. Instead, he averted the conversation from that direction. "Now, what concerns have brought you here to my humble office?" Palpatine gazed at Anakin in a way that was both intent and mild. A disconcerting mixture meant to confuse and agitate; to make the truth fall from bumbling lips before the mind even realized.

"You and I both know why I'm here. You couldn't have forgotten already, having issued the order yourself so recently. Today, in fact."

"I don't understand your anger, Lord Vader: there are many orders I issue everyday. I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific for me to understand why this has provoked such rage in you."

"The order I'm talking about is an assassination." Anakin's eyes honed hawk-like on Palpatine, searching for a reaction or weakness.

"You misunderstand the workings of the Galactic Empire, my apprentice," Palpatine said smoothly. "Force is only used against those who compromise the safety of this fair galaxy, and it is done legally and rightfully in the name of justice. I'm sure that you're aware that no bills have been passed saying assassinations are lawful." Palpatine smiled slightly at his own joke, still treating the conversation as if it were light and trivial—an action that grated on Anakin's nerves. "It would certainly set a bad example if the Empire was to condone to these barbaric actions, since we are the ones trying to eliminate them."

Palpatine straightened in his chair until he sat at his full height. Resting his two hands on the arms of his chair, Palpatine said in a more serious voice, "But to ease your anxiety and execute the duties required of the Empire, I will have someone look into this matter if you so wish."

Palpatine's gnarled hand was already straying towards the comlink on his desk when Anakin stopped him with his forceful words. "So are you telling me that some of your clone troopers are beyond your control? Should the Galactic Empire fear for another rebellion of mass proportions? If you cannot handle the clone army, perhaps a new Chancellor should be nominated—one more fit to lead. The last time something similar to this happened, you yourself suggested for the Chancellor to be replaced by someone more capable of handling the situation. It would seem improper of you to protest against your own former suggestion when it is applied to almost the exact same scenario. One would expect you to…step down with some class."

"I don't see how you can assume that a clone trooper was the one to attack you. The clone troopers remain loyal to the Galactic Empire and to me."

Sneering, Anakin retorted, "Then you must have issued the order yourself, if your lapdogs are as faithful as you say."

Unruffled as ever, Palpatine asked mildly, "What proof do you have to assume it was a clone trooper?"

"The scorch marks from the blaster were of similar color, pattern, and size of that created by a DC-15…the standard clone trooper gun. The lack of tact was another obvious sign that this was the work of a clone. They aren't exactly used to assassination orders, now are they? Normally subtly is the last thing on their mind and brute force the first. But they would be the best option for a task like this. They never question a command. Easily removed and replaced, too."

"Perhaps in your distress you misread the scorch marks. Appearance alone is not a very reliable way to figure out the type of blaster used—it's not very solid evidence at all to base your whole speculation on. And if it _was_ a clone gun, perhaps the assassin killed a clone and took his weapon, intending to use it for the purpose of creating dissension—as it seems to have worked. It's not uncommon for the depraved to pilfer from a dead body. Have you checked the surveillance cameras for any suspicious characters? If you are trying to mount an investigation, that is the first thing you should have done."

Anakin clenched his fists, folding them behind his back to hide them underneath his robe so Palpatine couldn't see his twitching fingers. He was furious with Palpatine: the Chancellor easily sidestepped every accusation of his, twisting all of his words around and treating him like a child. Palpatine had the gall to handle him as one would a simpleton. And then the false sympathy and helpfulness, which barely concealed the hidden jabs and insults buried underneath every word…

Realization dawned on Anakin: he was going about this the wrong way. He had to keep his voice level and his face calm, to feign civil conversation. Two could play this game. Sneering inwardly but keeping his outer appearance composed, Anakin said smoothly, "I'm sure that the assassin would be too intelligent to be caught on camera—I'm betting he has friends to help make sure of that. So while I thank you for the consideration, I decline your offer." Any information Palpatine gave him would be altered, with the evidence he needed wiped clean from the data-disk. And any clues that _would_ be on it would be false ones meant to lead him in the wrong direction.

Palpatine stared at Anakin for a moment, and Anakin's inner demon was gleeful to see a noticeable spark of suspicion flicker in Palpatine's eyes for a second. But the Chancellor's surprise was short-lived, and the mask donned once again. Anakin's abrupt change of attitude had thrown the man off, he was certain. He could just imagine the thoughts running through the Chancellor's brain—did Palpatine worry that he had, by some unconscious action or word, accidentally revealed something to Anakin? Was he worried?

He should be.

"Indeed, that could be the case…" Palpatine consented slowly. "Although if your notion of the assassin being some degenerate—or as you put it, 'lacking tact'—is correct, perhaps it shouldn't be assumed that they have influential people backing them. Perhaps it was simply the actions of an over-enthusiastic protester of your new teaching laws. He or she might have simply been trying to make clear their opinion on your education stance, and unintentionally gone over the top."

"But I must disagree, Chancellor, since the attempt wasn't aimed at me. I doubt an unemployed, disgruntle teacher would have any reason to attack Obi-Wan Kenobi, since he is a teacher himself. I think the motives of the attacker—or the attacker's hirer—run a little deeper than that." Anakin leaned forward on the desk, his posture friendly, as if the reason for his nearer presence was to more easily confide in Palpatine.

The true motivation of his action was intimidation.

Palpatine, an air of mild interest surrounding him, deliberately ignored Anakin's blatant bully tactics. Instead, he stared Anakin straight in the eye. "Indeed, the motives might run deeper."

Anakin shifted his gaze away for a few seconds, unsure of how to answer. He had not expected Palpatine to act that way. Express concern, yes, maybe cast his eyes around the room guiltily, yes. But to almost admit to doing the deed? No. It was as if he were taunting Anakin, dangling a shadow of the truth on an invisible string. Palpatine was trying to play mind games with him again. The Chancellor had been doing that since the first time they'd met, and Anakin was getting sick of it.

Without him controlling it, he felt the Force sleepily gathering in his fingers, making them twitch. His anger was rising again, waking up from the dark place where it resided in his soul. He almost lost his self-discipline, but checked himself just in time. Not trusting himself to speak at the moment, Anakin merely nodded his head in agreement with the Chancellor's statement.

Anakin reminded himself to play the game, to remain composed. If Palpatine was baiting him, it was because he was worried… Palpatine's own tactics were working against him, their boldness revealing to Anakin just how pressed his Master felt. He had to bide his time, and wait for the right moment to strike. One misstep could be fatal; he had to be careful of where he treaded and when.

"Speaking of Knight Kenobi…" Palpatine went on to say when Anakin remained silent. "I'm not sure if it is healthy for you to see him. Your friendship was destroyed in such an abrupt manner that I'm worried about your attempts to re-forge it… It may be too stressful for your body and mind to handle at the moment. With all the troubles of the Empire, and having to take care of your children… Trying to resurrect a relationship that clearly died is an inefficient and strenuous use of energy that could be put to better use.

"The Empire needs you right now. Contrary to the popular belief, the Empire does not have an iron grip on the galaxy. Yet, that is to say."—Palpatine smiled thinly—"It is growing and expanding, being reformed and rebuilt. Like a child, it will be fragile until it fully matures. The Empire needs you, Lord Vader, just as you need it. One day we will rule with unquestioned authority; one day we will squash all resistance, all violence, and what will be left will be tranquility. But that day has not come just yet, and we must work diligently if we wish to see it."

"I have served the Empire faithfully, and I will continue to do so. My allegiance is to the Empire. However, I must remind you that my life is still my own. I commit most of my time to fulfilling my duties to the Empire, but what is left of that time is my own. I do with it what I wish, and the Empire—or anyone else—cannot dictate that, Chancellor."

"Oh, by all means I'm not trying to _dictate_ what you're doing in your spare time," Palpatine said, his voice both amused and astonished, as if the thought had never occurred to him. "I'm simply an old friend concerned about your well-being."

Lies. It was all _lies_.

Anakin smiled and bowed down to his Master. "If that is the case, then I will take your advice into consideration. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have much work to do. As you have said yourself, the Empire is at a crucial turning point and much work must be done."

Palpatine gave a small chuckle. "Far be it from me to keep you from serving the Empire. I'm glad to see that you'll contemplate my words; hopefully you'll find my guidance sound and follow it. I'm only trying to look out for you, after all. Now, I have some business I need to finish up, but if you need to confer with me again you can leave a message with my secretary."

Anakin bowed once more before leaving, the smile still glued to his face. But the farther away he walked from the office, the more the smile twisted into something ugly. Hate and anger contorted his face, poisoning his features. Four years of repression, elusive mentions of greater power, and maddening hints of higher knowledge had made Anakin bitter.

Palpatine had promised to teach him the grand powers of the Dark Side, saying that there was much more to the Force than the dogmatic view the Jedi taught, and that he knew it. A curiosity had sparked in Anakin, and with every passing day it had grown. Before Anakin fully understood the transformation within himself, that spark had lit a consuming fire in his soul. He wished to obtain this knowledge, this power Palpatine spoke of, so that the fire—the _need_—in his soul could be dimmed to embers.

But Palpatine's promises were as empty as his compassion, and Anakin's raging curiosity went unabated. All Palpatine taught him of the Dark Side were the basics, frivolous tricks that would help him none on the battlefield. They were just enough to make Anakin aware of how much more there was to learn. It was as if he were coasting on the surface of a frozen lake, aware of how much deeper the water went but unable to break through the thin, cold barrier separating him from the final, drastic, satisfying plunge into the dark depth. So he foolishly pounded on the thick ice, thinking to break the barrier on his own. But no matter how much blood he spilled, how much sleep he lost, how much Force he wielded, he was always left standing on top of the ice, and not in the frosty waters he longed for. It was a thirst that drove him nearly mad.

Eventually, Anakin had awakened from his grand daydreams to realize that Palpatine would never teach him the secrets of the Dark Side; that he had never meant to in the first place.

In Palpatine's eyes, he was only a pawn. They were never meant to be equals.

Anakin gritted his teeth; every day after that revelation had strengthened his growing hatred for Palpatine. Now that he knew the promises were empty and the words false glitter, he saw past the thin veil Palpatine drew around himself. Anakin saw the way Palpatine manipulated those around him, slowly warping them to his will. Every person who succumbed to Palpatine's subtle evils painfully reminded Anakin of a younger him, for long ago he too had fallen under Palpatine's spell. And now that he had been disillusioned, he found that he had nowhere to go, nothing to do, no life left to live. Palpatine had ruined his life, destroying what could have ended happily.

There was no forgiveness in Anakin's harsh soul for a harsh man.

Anakin stepped into his personal office. While he did the more important—and sometimes unsavory—work in his home offices, he worked at the Galactic Empire building occasionally to remind people of his existence. His mere presence had the uncanny affect of driving rebelliousness out of a discontent Senator.

Before picking up a pen and stabbing signatures on papers of little consequence, he stared at the framed picture of Obi-Wan, Leia, and Luke that was standing on his desk. They were all smiling, although Obi-Wan looked a little worn with the lines underneath his eyes. 'But he always looks tired,' Anakin thought fondly. 'He's always going on about how those younglings will push him to the brink, and that it'll be Leia and Luke to finally shove him over.' Anakin closed his eyes for a moment. Yes, this was his oasis. It was the small happiness in his life that kept the anger from consuming him entirely and making him something less than human. His children and Obi-Wan were his family and all he had left in the empty space called the galaxy.

That was why he clung so desperately to them.

Opening his eyes, Anakin picked up his pen and started going through papers. Since he was the Military Executioner and Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy, there were always military personnel and ships awaiting his orders, reports notifying him of achievements or drawbacks, and spy notes updating him on the inside workings of the navy. He read a few reports and filed responses to them.

An untitled and secret job of his was to inspect bills that senators sent to the Imperial Senate to be voted on. While the Senate was supposed to inspect these bills as a whole and decide if they should be signed, altered, or vetoed, what the senators _didn't_ know was that Anakin inspected each bill before it was presented to them. He scrutinized bills senators created carefully; searching in each one for minute details that, when put into legal action, might possibly weaken the Empire. If they were acceptable, he stamped the envelope they came in and sent them to the Chancellor. The Chancellor would then submit the bill to the Senate and let the senators trouble themselves over trivial matters; any bill that had to go past them was one that did not affect the Empire as a whole.

If flaws were found in the bills, little details that could give more power to the people and the Senate (therefore taking it away from the Empire—for Anakin was a firm believer that for power to be gained it had to be lost by someone else), Anakin had the pleasure of tearing them to shreds.

And if anyone commented on a bill they sent that was never submitted to the Senate, well… It was common for delivery droids to misplace mail, and there were too many bills to submit them to the Imperial Senate all at once…some had to wait while other, more pressing matters were discussed. And in the time it took to pass or veto _that_ bill, other bills could be accidentally lost. Mistakes happened, even to the nearly infallible Empire.

Absently, Anakin noticed that all three bills Alderaan Senator Bail Organa sent were shredded, and mentally made a note to watch Senator Organa more closely. He had never liked the man to begin with.

After working for about fifteen minutes, Anakin paused in his drudgery. He wasn't expecting any visitors, and a decent amount of time had passed since his talk with Palpatine. He hadn't wanted to make his move too early, just in case Palpatine sent someone in to check on him, but he didn't want to wait too long either, in fear that he would miss his window of opportunity. But the Force was telling him that _now_ was the right time to act. Putting away his pen and papers, Anakin got up from his seat and left his office room. Black robe sweeping behind him, he swiftly made his way to the surveillance room.

A single cleaning droid was in the room. "Leave here," Anakin commanded the droid. It beeped a bit while doing so, but complied quickly nonetheless. He watched it leave silently. When the door clicked shut he became a flurry of action. At the control panel he typed in command after command. Several times he was denied access, and he cursed softly as he backtracked and started again. His pupils darted back and forth as he read the contents of the screens flashing by, streams of numbers and words jumbling over each other on the monitor. He worked to break down barrier after barrier of codes and firewalls, fingers a blur on the control panel and keyboard. Despite the strong resistance, his superior technology skills and a few helpful nudges from the Force got him what he wanted within minutes. With a grim grin, Anakin typed in a few more commands, and suddenly—on the holoprojector to his right—a real-time scene started to play out.

Palpatine, Janus Greejatus, and Sim Aloo hovered in the air, tinged blue. Anakin fiddled around with the controls and suddenly sound was audible. Rotating his revolving seat to face the holoprojector, Anakin watched the three figures over his laced fingers, a small smile hovering on his lips.

The blue-tinged Palpatine was huddled close to his two top advisors, an infuriated look on his face. His voice rang out from the speakers, slightly distorted by the transmission signal: _"How could you have let this happen?"_

Sim Aloo, an old man with a hawk nose, normally looked severe as he stared down on people from that hooked nose of his. Now, as he shifted nervously in his black robes, he was reduced to a simple subordinate. _"It's_ _unacceptable; I agree completely. The clone trooper will be punished for his incompetence, I can assure you."_

_"That is no reassurance!"_ Palpatine hissed. _"The clone trooper was never supposed to have lived in the first place, you fools! He knows too much now."_

Janus Greejatus spoke out calmly, although his demeanor gave away his nervousness. _"Chancellor, he knows nothing. We told him what to do and when to do it, and nothing more. He was given no explanation of what would happen from his actions. I assumed that a missing clone trooper would be more hazardous than the alternative—"_

Palpatine rounded on Greejatus. _"So it was your decision to let the trooper live?"_

Aloo looked relieved that the anger had been redirected, and nodded his head enthusiastically. Greejatus gave Aloo a withering look before returning his attention to Palpatine. _"Yes, Chancellor, I accept responsibility for that action. At the time it seemed like the wisest decision. I can say nothing more in my defense; I have failed you."_ He bowed his head; his bushy eyebrows furrowed together when Palpatine could no longer see his face. Undoubtedly, he was thinking that these were his last minutes in the living realm.

Yet Palpatine threw them off balance once again. Collecting himself, he settled down into a more dignified attitude. Smiling faintly at Greejatus, he said, _"I admire your courage to take full responsibility. Because you have been valuable to me in the past, and a loyal friend, I shall spare your life. Just don't let this happen again, Greejatus, because I will not be so accommodating a second time."_

_"Thank you, Chancellor,"_ Greejatus said, relief evident in his voice. He lifted his head up from its tilted position to look Palpatine squarely in the face as he proclaimed, _"You won't regret your decision. I will immediately handle this problem and make sure that all evidence is destroyed."_

_"Yes, indeed, you should do so, and quickly. Lord Vader has become suspicious. Already he came to me; hence why our meeting was broken up before. He is stubborn,"_ Palpatine mused, _"and he will hunt down any fragment of truth that he can. He pursues his targets with an admirable amount of single-minded determination…part of the reason why he is so useful to the Empire. But that also makes him a danger, because he will continue to search when others would have abandoned hope. Perhaps it is because he has no hope to abandon, and only purpose keeps him alive."_—Anakin gritted his teeth, hating how Palpatine evaluated and inferred about him, assuming he understood how Anakin thought—he knew _nothing—"And I would like to keep him alive,"_ Palpatine said pointedly. _"He brings great strength to the Empire and great fear to the Empire's enemies."_

_"Yes, he is a great aspect to the Empire,"_ Greejatus agreed wholeheartedly. His relief about having a second chance could be seen in how readily and vigorously he agreed with the Chancellor. _"Almost to the point of being invaluable—not as great as your Eminence, but close."_—Palpatine smiled at the thinly veiled (if veiled at all) flattery_—"I will see to it that he has no evidence with which to follow. With no leads, he will undoubtedly resign himself to the fact that his suspicions were unfounded and drop the subject."_

_"Good."_ Palpatine turned slightly to make it obvious that what he said next was meant for both of them. _"Now, current problems aside, there are other issues that must be commented on…such as the fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi is still alive. While I have a backup plan, I would rather that you two deal with this mess personally, since you were the ones to fail. I presume that you will find another, more successful way to eliminate him. His mere presence is a danger to the Empire. His influence could destroy within weeks what I have built up for decades. I do not want to hear of this matter until you have given me affirmative news of Kenobi's death, or I have summoned you here myself."_ Palpatine looked darkly at both of them. _"I will go to either one or two funerals in the near future; best be careful whose they are."_

Sim Aloo and Janus Greejatus both paled to such an extreme extent that the action was mimicked even on their blue-tinged holographic images. With a wave of Palpatine's hand, they hastily retreated from the room. Palpatine sat down in his chair heavily and ran a hand through his thinning hair. His face, already aged beyond its years by extensive use of the Dark Force and stressful situations, sank into an even more abysmal state. Lines deepened to grotesque proportions and his eyes stared wearily out of two dark, skull-like holes.

Anakin turned off the holoprojector, having seen enough. Showing teeth, he saved the whole transmission on a small data-stick that he then slid into one of the many hidden pockets of his black tunic. He went back into the main computer's memory frame and deleted any images of himself in the surveillance room, or of him even walking the hallways close by. He then programmed the cameras to instantly delete any images of him recorded in the next ten minutes. After that, he set up two older images recorded on previous days: one of him working in his office and one—to go off in about five minutes—of him leaving his office.

All the recordings for the day would make it appear as if Anakin had gone straightly to his office after talking with Palpatine, and had stayed there for about half-an-hour before immediately leaving the Galactic Empire building. Right now, Anakin was a completely invisible entity in plain sight.

He leaned back in the seat; he had five minutes to savor the feeling. He should leave at the same time the recording of him walking out of his office played. That way, while the halls he used to exit the building would be different (though the exit itself would be the same one), anyone who witnessed him leaving would have the same time as the cameras. Besides, if they weren't suspicious of him, they wouldn't remember the exact details of where they saw him; he'd learned long ago that senators were only sharp when they felt they were being threatened. To them, it was just another day, and Anakin was just another being that constantly walked in and out of the building. If Palpatine questioned them, then compared what they said to what the cameras picked up, he would simply assume they had remembered wrong and that the cameras were right. That was another deficiency of leaning too much on technology; people began to believe that it was infallible.

Anakin grinned and didn't even try to contain the barking laughter that sprung from his lips. It was not a nice sound, laced more with irony and cruel amusement than humor. He fingered the data-stick in his pocket.

Yes, his assumptions had paid off handsomely. Anakin knew that Palpatine had cameras everywhere, and figured the fool would place one even in his own room. Palpatine was suspicious by nature, and would want recordings of whatever went on in his office, even when he wasn't there bodily (_especially_ then). Furthermore, a camera could easily save information that could be used against people as blackmail; more than one person had unraveled under Palpatine's pressure in that red, red room.

Palpatine's confidence in his own insightfulness had blinded him. He disregarded the fact that the camera's feed could be broken into, and that same lens used to spy on its master as it did others.


	6. Hologram

**Reposted 9-16-05: **Thank you, **LZfOx1379**, for once again finding my mistakes and being kind enough to point them out. I love your reviews, and I'm glad that you're willing to take the time to point out my mistakes.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block:** The Dark Crucible by **Jaxmari**. This Star Wars fic is rated M and involves slash. This is a very well written Anakin/Obi-Wan story. It has long chapters, good characterization, and a decent plot. I enjoyed myself immensely when reading this. It's fast paced enough to keep you hooked, but it's not so fast that you don't get a chance to learn more about the characters. Jaxmari's found a good balance of both, and this story's a good read. However, there is a downside to all of this…there are only four chapters posted right now ('right now' being 9-16-05), and the author does not update regularly. So while this story is amazing and wonderful, you'll have to wait for more chapters to come out. But I believe the goods outweigh the bads. :)

I had fun with the last chapter…writing Palpatine was a challenge that I enjoyed. On the outside he displays concern, but you can practically see the wheels turning inside his head. It's fun to write about a character who thinks so oppositely of how he acts—tricky, but fun. A few characters just seem to write themselves, and Palpatine is one of them (for me, at least. I don't know if anyone else feels that way…). We also got a glimpse of why Anakin is the way he is. I tried to use some good metaphors and similes within that chapter, and I hoped they worked and that you liked them. I also had fun with the hologram scene. It's as if—if you let the words form pictures in your head—you're watching someone watch someone else. I like that sort of mind-boggling 'logic.'

The reviews were lovely, and I thank you for them. I'm glad that people are enjoying my story. If you find any mistakes, please tell me. And, if you can remember where it is exactly, can you please point that out too? Sometimes my mind skips over mistakes, since when I'm reading it I may unconsciously 'correct' it in my mind without physically fixing the mistake. So if you point out the mistake and tell me where it is (and any suggestions of how to correct it would be much appreciated), I'll be eternally grateful for you. But if you don't want to look that hard, don't worry. I want to perfect my writing as much as humanly possible, but not at the expense of your amusement. I just want you guys to enjoy yourselves.

**Page Amount: **8

**Word Count: **6,931

Started 7-13-05, and finished 7-14-05

Listening to: Sting "Desert Rose"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Six**: Hologram_

"Hurry up, Obi-Wan! We still have the greenhouse to cover!" Leia yelled as she raced ahead of the weary Jedi Master. She stood expectantly at the top of the stairs that led up to the fifty-third floor. Her hands were fisted on her hips, and she tapped her foot impatiently at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan gave the steps a pained look. "Stairs," he groaned out, as if the word was the worst curse imaginable. And at that moment, it could have been for Obi-Wan; in the past half-hour or so he had already been dragged through nearly every room in the house—twice. He could, unquestionably, see her thriving in a role of leadership: she could be a slaver driver when she wanted to.

Leia had raced around the house, showing off artwork—she breezed over the famous paintings, instead gushing over her crayon 'masterpieces' taped to the fridge—and demonstrating the use of this or that appliance. Obi-Wan had been hard-pressed to keep up with the energetic girl. Often, she would wander from room to room, doubling back and forth in her enthusiasm to show Obi-Wan everything at once. He had viewed a pristine kitchen (which was not used often, judging from the way the sink still gleamed with that new-steel look), a formal dining room (likewise unused), and many other rooms in such immaculate condition that Obi-Wan wondered if they were _ever_ used.

However, when they entered the living room Obi-Wan gained an inkling of an idea of why the other rooms were not used. The living room could be summed up to juice stains on the carpet, small holes in the plaster, permanent marker scribbles on walls with failed attempts to wash them off, couches lumpy from constant jumping on, and toys and trinkets scattered haphazardly around the big-screen TV that was the focus of the room.

To state an understatement, the decoration in this room was less formal, and the entire feel of the area was a much-lived in one.

Yes, Obi-Wan would have forbidden the usage of the other, more formal rooms if this, too, would be their fate. Not even rooms deserved this kind of abuse.

The first floor of the house (though it technically wasn't the 'first' floor, being floor fifty-one of the giant building) had consisted of the formal, intimidating rooms and the one well-used living room. The second floor contained bedrooms, mostly. There was also a playroom filled with Leia's doll collection, Luke's toy gadgets, and their shared video games and gaming systems.

The second floor had a much more relaxed atmosphere to it, and Obi-Wan felt some of his mangled nerves untwist as he allowed the twins to lead him around. He imagined that formal company only saw the first floor, being as the décor for that level was both elegant and intimidating, speaking of boundless wealth. It was almost paradoxical, the difference one set of stairs made. Where the first floor's decoration was cold and calculated, the second's was warm and pleasant.

As Leia dragged him down the hallways, Obi-Wan had seen more glimpses of permanent marker and carpet stains here and there. One of the permanent marker stains looked particularly beautiful, the black of the ink dribbling down the wall in a rainbow of colors. Anakin must have tried to wash it out with water right after the deed had been done. Obi-Wan smiled at the naïveté of Anakin's parenting skills. A somewhat pro himself from raising younglings—most particularly Anakin, who had had a mischievous streak in him as a child—Obi-Wan knew better than to try to wash out freshly drawn permanent marker with water. The water only diluted the black, making the ink run down in colorful streams that created an even bigger, if more beautiful, mess. The only way to deal with those markings successfully was the tedious and messy task of painting over them.

But he couldn't take in many of the finer details of the hallway drawings because Leia quickly dragged him into her room. He stepped through the doorway, and in doing so entered a young girl's world. The walls were one huge mural, an on-going painting of a medieval time with dragons and castles and knights. Obi-Wan smiled when he saw that all the white-armored knights were females with curly brown hair and fierce, expressive brown eyes. It was details like that that made his day. Leia had many of the objects common to wealthy, young Coruscanti girls. These were the latest fashions that defined some of the shallower creatures: a flowy canopy bed, heaps of stuffed animals, and expensive dolls. But the bed was unmade, the stuffed animals loved to the point of falling apart—he saw a few missing eyes and stuffing sticking out of small holes in necks—and the dolls off their shelves and scattered across the floor. One or two of the dolls even seemed as if they had survived (just barely) inexperienced haircuts and makeup makeovers.

Leia shoved a picture into his hands, an expectant look in her eyes. "It's for you," she clarified.

Obi-Wan looked at the crumpled paper, and saw a drawing of four people—or, at least, he _thought_ they were people, but he couldn't be quite sure—with colors splattered here and there at random intervals where a colored pencil had graced the paper.

"I made it myself," Leia said proudly.

"I can see that," Obi-Wan said, unsure of what to make of it. "…It's very good. I think…that's me, right?" He pointed to a short, round man with brown lines crossing over his face in what he supposed was a beard. He was wearing what looked like a rectangle of brown. While she had remembered the beard, apparently the picture-him needed no hair on the _top_ of his head.

"Yep!" Leia replied enthusiastically, proudly. "And there's Daddy"—she pointed to a tall stick figure in poorly drawn black clothes—"and there's Luke"—a little stick figure with gold hair (a figure who, unfortunately, Leia had forgotten to draw clothes on)—"and there's me!" She pointed at the stick figure to the left of Obi-Wan, which had curls of brown hair sticking up everywhere in a messy afro. "That's my favorite dress," Leia explained, pointing to the triangle of blue that covered the lines of her stick figure.

'Does she really think I'm fat…? I _am_ the only figure portrayed by a _circle_, of all things…' Obi-Wan mused. He was half-insulted, half-endeared, and entirely touched by Leia's obvious attempt to display her affection for him on paper. "My, that is indeed a pretty blue dress that you're wearing."

Leia beamed; apparently he had said the right thing. "I was thinking of wearing it tomorrow, so you'll get to see it then, okay?"

"I can hardly wait," Obi-Wan assured her.

"You know…" Leia said shyly, "I made this picture to give to you when you came here. See, it's everyone in the family!" She waved her hand at the crumpled drawing, grinning hugely. She bounced on the balls of her feet, energy and happiness not allowing her to keep still even as she waited for a response.

Obi-Wan was strangely subdued by the comment. Perhaps the gravity of the situation finally caught up to him; perhaps he only didn't know how to respond. But whatever it was, it made him think. What, though, he wasn't sure. "Why yes, I see that everyone is here… When did you make this, exactly? You've been with me since we got here, so I don't know when you found the time…and I'm sure it took a long time, being drawn so skillfully." He supposed she had drawn it some time today, but he couldn't figure out when.

Leia paused, her forehead wrinkling in concentration. "About a year ago...I think. That's why it got so crumpled," Leia said apologetically, "because Daddy accidentally stepped on it when we were rearranging my room last month. And two months before _that_ Luke threw Molly—she's my doll friend, you see—and she landed on it."

"I see," Obi-Wan said quietly, swallowing his shock. "Well, you can be assured that it will live for many more years, and that I'll keep it in a safe place near me at all times." Obi-Wan folded the picture gently (the creases didn't change the state of the rumpled paper much, so he didn't feel too guilty about damaging it further) and put it in his tunic, in the pocket covering his heart.

Leia smiled brilliantly at him, overjoyed by the compliment. Shoving the current topic aside, Leia said excitedly, "Now you can meet Molly and Polly and the rest of my dolls!" Leia hurried over to a small round table, where a few dolls were seated. "We were having teatime when Daddy made us leave to visit you, so we never got to finish our tea and biscuits. I'm sure that we can find another tea cup, and I _know_ that Molly and Polly would love the extra company." Leia looked back at Obi-Wan and whispered in a voice that screamed 'conspiracy,' "They don't get much of a chance to talk to guys. I can't find any good guy dolls and Luke'll never visit them again—he said that after the first time."

Obi-Wan was saved from having to talk to dolls all night (he had a suspicion that Leia wanted to hook him up with Molly and Polly) when Luke tugged on the back of his tunic. Thankful for the distraction, Obi-Wan quickly turned to him and asked, "Yes, Luke, how may I help you?"

Perhaps he asked the question too eagerly, he reflected as Luke backed up a bit. "I just wanted you to see my room, is all," he said quietly, nibbling on his bottom lip slightly. His calm brown eyes stared up at Obi-Wan pleadingly.

"I would love to, Luke," Obi-Wan responded. "Leia, we'll have to postpone my meeting of Molly and Polly and co. It might be for the best, anyways; now they have a chance to prepare themselves for our shared…teatime. They can put on their best dresses and makeup…and whatever else…it is that dolls…do…" Obi-Wan ended the sentence on a rather pathetic note.

Leia gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth as if she couldn't believe that she had forgotten something so important. She became a whirlwind of action, rushing around the room and digging up this or that doll outfit while chattering inanely. From the response, Obi-Wan guessed he had said the right thing to occupy the young girl. He was a bit out of his element here; he took care of younglings, training them to become Jedi. He didn't have daily contact with many children who lived 'normal' lives. While he received regular visits from Leia and Luke at the Temple (unfortunately shadowed by Anakin), he didn't live with them day-in and day-out. He still didn't know how he was supposed to entertain and take care of them for twenty-four hours straight. Maybe he'd start dumping them on C-3PO, as Anakin seemed fond of doing.

"This way," Luke said, walking down the hall to a nearby room. He opened the door and let Obi-Wan enter before closing and locking it. "It's to keep Leia out," he explained, "or else she would keep blabbing on and on and I'd never get a word in." He grinned shyly as Obi-Wan laughed.

Obi-Wan surveyed the room, taking in everything. "You have a nice room here," he commented, meaning it. Luke's room was a mixture of mystery and machinery, fact and fantasy. The walls were coated thickly in pure black, but the many star systems painted onto it in brilliant colors and details kept the dark walls from becoming too claustrophobic-like. Obi-Wan looked more closely at some of the planets. "Are these real systems?" The one he was observing looked remarkably like Naboo…

"Yes, and they're all in their correct coordinates too. Well, as accurate as they can be, since they're painted on four walls and a ceiling instead of being portrayed three-dimensionally with a holoprojector," Luke admitted. "Everything is as precise as possible. I like reading about faraway planets, and it's nice to be able to actually see them on my wall. It helps put everything into perspective, you know? See, we're…right…here." Luke pointed to a planet painted right above his bed's headboard.

The planet under Luke's finger seemed to glow, almost like a sun, and was covered almost entirely by lights. But instead of the warm yellows, bold reds, and sometimes blue-whites of stars and suns, this light was a stark white. It was a realistic picture of Coruscant, nearly indistinguishable from what Obi-Wan saw every time he left or entered the planet's orbit. But he hadn't traveled to other systems in nearly four standard years—there was simply no reason for him to do so, and he had the younglings to look after. Besides, he doubted the Empire would have allowed it anyways, with its desire for absolute control. He had forgotten just how Coruscant looked, just how _visible_ it was, from space. It was like a lighthouse, beckoning to weary space travelers. Droves of which came to the city-planet every standard year in the form of immigrants, pleasure-seekers, and political powers.

Obi-Wan's gaze slid over to a section of the wall that held more black than planets and stars; and those systems that were there were scattered about haphazardly, disconnected from one another. The Outer Rim, he assumed.

He noticed something floating in what he had presumed to be empty space, its color varying slightly from the absolute black around it. A closer look showed it to be a deep purple—so dark it was almost black—space-creature drifting between star systems; it's miniscule, gleaming white teeth had been what had caught his eye. Its shape combined elements of a snake, crocodile, and shark. The head of a crocodile, with rows of razor sharp teeth grinning, flowed fluidly into a body that was more serpentine. The four clawed feet of the creature were webbed and laid sideways on the main body, seeming more like fish fins than actual legs. The thick body slithered back and forth, curling like a snake's form and ending in a thick tail. The back of the creature was covered by the slightly protruding armor of a crocodile, with one extremely sharp-looking dorsal fin spiking upwards to help it steer. Its round eyes blazed a brighter white than its teeth—a white so pure and devoid of color that it seemed impossible—and he would have thought it blind but for the fact that he could see razor-thin black slits in the center of each white orb. The white seemed to swallow up the black, making the irises nearly invisible. "What's that?"

"Oh, it's the mythical space-crocodile that's said to hunt down pirates. His name is Gorgonth. He tracks down the crooks of the galaxy and gulps down their ships in one bite. He consumes only those who are evil, so he is considered the protector of virtuous space travelers. If you see him and he lets you live, it's believed that you'll have good-luck with deep space traveling for the rest of your life. But he hasn't been spotted in millenniums." Luke ran a small hand over the crocodile reverently.

"That's quite a piece of folklore you have there, Luke. I've never heard it before, and frankly, I wish I had. I could use some good luck with space traveling—or any sort of flying, for that matter—and seeing him would be a good omen. If you were to live, that is." Gorgonth's white eyes seemed to watch him, the black slits moving undiscernibly to follow his movements. The entire creature—from its body structure to its grinning teeth—told of viciousness, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder how it came to be associated with 'good.'

Luke shook his head. "While he's the size of a small moon, he jumps from black hole to black hole, making him nearly impossible to spot. He's rarely seen." Luke sighed wistfully.

Obi-Wan settled a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "Well, maybe you'll be the lucky person to see him."

"I can only hope." Luke smiled wirily; it was a mature expression for one so young.

The rest of Luke's room was filled with contents of equal fascination. Pictures of mythical beasts, hanging models of star systems, half-finished machines in the process of being made, and charts filled the room to the brim. Obi-Wan was amazed that such contradicting interests could coexist so easily within Luke; one could say they even thrived off each other. The Gorgonth story was a prime example of how Luke had twisted space technology and mythology together in a way so artistic that it nearly became a craft.

Obi-Wan was brought back to the present by Leia's shouting. "Come on, Obi-Wan! It's only a couple of stairs…be a man!" While dressing up her dolls had preoccupied Leia for a while, eventually she had come pounding on Luke's door, demanding entrance. Obi-Wan had been forced to open it, lest she broke it down with her forceful knocking. She had then tugged impatiently on his tunic, dragging him away to show him the greenhouse. Which had led to their—or more to the point, _his_—current predicament: stairs.

Already worn out by all the running involved in keeping up with Leia, Obi-Wan was ready to call it quits. But Leia insisted that he see the greenhouse, and Obi-Wan knew that he would never get a moment of respite until he bowed down to her wishes. "I'm coming, I'm coming," Obi-Wan called back, taking his time to walk up the stairs. Satisfied that he was indeed coming, she skipped off to find the next thing she wanted to show him. When she was out of view he muttered, "Slave driver."

However, the climb was well worth it: when his foot finally made contact with the topmost step, he was met with an awe-inspiring view. Small trees, ferns, flowers, and a massive variety of vegetation thrived in the room. Some of the species, most likely, had never existed side-by-side before, having grown on entirely different planets. A small red bird flew past Obi-Wan's head and he stepped back in surprise. His foot half-landed on air, and he nearly lost his balance; if he had, he surely would have tumbled down the stairs. Heart pounding a bit at how close he had been to breaking his neck, Obi-Wan made sure to stand farther away from the stairway.

"Don't mind him, he's just the show-off of the group," Leia declared, unaware of how close Obi-Wan had come to falling.

"You mean there's more?" Obi-Wan questioned, still trying to take in the predominantly green (although many other vibrant colors protruded in pockets here and there) foliage.

"Yes, a whole bunch! Of every color and species imaginable!" Leia held up her hands, arms and fingers outstretched to their fullest extent to show just how many birds there were. "Daddy tells me that this floor is not only owned by the plants, but by the animals. We have to respect them, and be polite 'cause we're intruding in _their_ home. And we have more than just birds in the greenhouse. Nothing harmful lives here, but there are tons of exotic creatures that you can find hiding in the plants, if you have the patience to let them come to you. I've only seen a handful of them," Leia confessed. "Luke's the one who can practically name them all, the nerd." Leia rolled her eyes, though Obi-Wan could tell that she was a little envious that she herself couldn't do so.

"Master Obi-Wan?" a mechanical voice exclaimed, surprise and delight evident.

Obi-Wan turned around to witness C-3PO walking stiffly over to them. "Threepio," Obi-Wan called out joyfully. "I didn't know that you were here! I didn't see you at all downstairs."

"Well, I should think that it would be obvious that I would still be in the services of Master Anakin, sir. He is my maker, after all, and I am eternally indebted to him. Not to mention that he is a good master…I've seen the state of some of those other droids…simply terrible, really. Honestly, is a good polishing and buffing too much for a droid to ask for? To see the dismal state of some of them, you would think it costs a limb to do just that!"

Obi-Wan grinned at C-3PO. "Same as always, Threepio." He clapped a hand on one of C-3PO's metallic, golden shoulders. "It's a wonder that your circuits haven't melted with all the fussing you do."

"Why, thank you Master Obi-Wan…I think…" C-3PO twisted his upper torso side-to-side slightly, as though in agitation or thought, and he added as an afterthought, "Oh dear, I fear that I have just been insulted."

By that time Luke entered the room; he had stayed behind in his room for a bit, saying he wanted to try to finish his tinkering on a nearly completed cleaning droid. "Threepio's up here a lot to help me take care of the plants and animals." Luke gave Leia a pointed side-glance. "See? I _do_ give credit where it's due."

Leia mostly ignored the petty insult, responding only with a flip of her hair and a disdainful sniff.

Sensing that a full-fledge fight might occur if Luke continued his jabs, Obi-Wan said hastily, "Thank you both for showing me around the house; that was an experience in itself. I'm getting tired, though, and if you two could kindly point me in the direction of my room…" Obi-Wan drifted off as he yawned (for the most part, to say on his behalf, the action was real).

"Oh, sure, of course! Right!" Leia said, scrambling past Obi-Wan to rush down the stairs. "It's this way." She hurried off down a corridor and out of view.

Luke chose to walk by Obi-Wan. He said happily, "Dad already has a room made specially for you, so you don't have to worry about sleeping in a spare bedroom. I know that I don't like it when I have to sleep in a room that's not my own. It's just too…different."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at Luke's first comment: so Anakin had already made a room for him, had he? He knew that Anakin had been trying to get him to live with his family for a long time, but he'd never taken the time to actually consider that Anakin might have had a room pre-made specifically for him. The action was arrogant; as if Anakin was certain that Obi-Wan would eventually give in to his demands. "Well, I am overjoyed to hear that I will have my own personal room. I'm sure that I'll sleep much better there than on the couch. Although I had been prepared to do just that…"

"Nope," Luke said. "Dad's thought of everything." Reverence and respect were easily discernable in Luke's voice.

"You really look up to your father, don't you?" Obi-Wan asked quietly.

"Yes, I do. He's a good man," the young boy said proudly. Seeking Obi-Wan's approval, he asked him, "Don't you think so?"

Obi-Wan remained quiet for a moment, focusing on the _tick_ of his mechanical knees as he walked. Opting for the half-truthful response, he replied, "Yes." Anakin was a good man; he was an evil ruler. 'Power corrupts the best of us,' Obi-Wan thought sadly.

When Obi-Wan and Luke finally got to Obi-Wan's bedroom door, they were met with an impatient Leia. "What took you so long?" she snapped out.

Obi-Wan looked at her, a serious and reproachful expression on his face. "You shouldn't take that tone of voice with anyone, Leia. It can be considered insulting, and you could hurt someone's feelings."

She opened her mouth, looking as if she was going to protest, before she snapped it shut again. "Sorry," she said stiffly, before twisting a curl of her brown hair guiltily. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone's feelings. I was just tired of waiting."

"I know you didn't mean to be hurtful, and that's why you have to be _especially_ careful when choosing your words. It's that sort of carelessness that leads to accidentally inflicting emotional damage. And psychological injuries are much less visible and much more harmful than physical wounds. It's harder to know when you've inflicted it and how to heal it. That's why you need to be careful with what you say," Obi-Wan said gently, in a kind but firm voice. It was the sort of speech he would give one of his younglings if they had acted this way. "Now, I take it this is my room?"

"Yes," a more docile Leia said. But she bounced back quickly and exclaimed, "I can show you around here too! There's lots of stuff in there—"

"Thank you, Leia, but let's leave that for another day, shall we? I want to have a bit of alone time to explore my room. I'll probably meditate and go to bed after that, and I doubt that you two are interested in those functions."—Leia and Luke both shook their heads—"I thought so. I'll see you two in the morning. Make sure not to stay up too late—if I hear any loud noises, I'm going to get Threepio to put you to bed," Obi-Wan warned them. "Goodnight." He closed his door to two echoing 'goodnight's.

With the door shut, Obi-Wan leaned against it and sighed. Finally, some respite. But he still couldn't rest. While he was now very familiar with the house floors, he was still clueless about the layout of the rest of the building. If he was going to take this opportunity of Anakin being gone, he better act quickly; there was no telling how much longer business would occupy Anakin.

Obi-Wan looked at the clock on his dresser, and its red numbers read 10:21. Late, but not too late, Obi-Wan decided. Anakin would probably be away for a while still, if he was lucky. Obi-Wan noticed that his suitcase was already in the room: that was probably C-3PO's work. He went over to it and took out a pair of thin, pliable leather gloves. As he slipped the soft material on, he flexed his hands experimentally. The gloves were thin enough to let his fingers move freely, and would keep his fingerprints off any objects he happened to pick up or touch. He placed a lock-pick kit in one of his tunic pockets. His fingers brushed up against Leia's drawing, and he quickly removed it and set it on a nearby dresser; he didn't want the picture to get lost or damaged. Into the pocket also went a jamming device (it would temporarily stop the functioning of any machine it was shoved into), a decoder, and a data-stick.

Letting himself out of the room, Obi-Wan crept down the hallway. The TV blared, the kids glued to the screen as they watched something on the HoloNet. Making sure to avoid walking past that room, Obi-Wan exited the house unnoticed. Stepping into the hallway, he wondered where he should start his search. He made his way to the elevator, and decided to start at the top of the building and work his way down. However, as his hand strayed dangerously close to pushing the 'down' button of the elevator, he stopped. Using the elevator was too obvious and noisy. He moved off to the side and found a small, hidden door. He opened it and saw that it was what he both wanted and dreaded: stairs.

'Well, look on the bright side,' he thought, 'you've already covered three floors; only fifty more to go.' He started walking down the staircase: fifty seemed like an impossibly large number at the moment. He was already tired from all the walking at the zoo and the house, and his metal legs weren't helping. While they were durable, they were also harder to move because of the material's dense and heavy nature. And their reaction time was always just a bit off, due to the fact that his nerve commands had to be converted into computer data and then back again for his body to communicate with the machinery. Normally Obi-Wan could deal with these slight difficulties easily, but constant stairs, long distances, and stressful situations were nibbling away his self-reserves.

He stopped at the first door: floor fifty. As Anakin had told him before, it was completely empty. Not even a droid or camera was in sight, and when he wandered around he found that all the rooms were vacant. Floor forty-nine was the same, but for the sake of being thorough Obi-Wan searched there also.

It was at floor forty-eight that he started to meet some resistance. The stairway door was locked, and Obi-Wan spent precious minutes fiddling around with the picks until the lock sprang open. He wasn't too experienced with this sort of work (namely, thievery and spying), and while that was something he was proud of, it also made his job exasperating. Everything he did was an experiment, and he _knew_ that he was wasting time but he didn't know how to correct that. Having a bit of practice in the field of picking locks would have helped him, and kept him from wasting valuable minutes. One blunder could make the difference between living and dying, and he didn't like the fact that he was feeling his way through all of this.

But the fact that he only needed the lock-picks, and not the decoder, to open the stairwell door meant that the floor didn't hold anything of great valuable. However, that would also mean less security measures, which made it a good place to mess around until he got a better feel of how to do his job. Obi-Wan was hoping that Anakin kept materials on this floor that he wanted easy access to; probably nothing of too much importance, but perhaps some things of personal value. It was close to the home floors so Anakin could easily walk or ride the elevator down to this level. It was a convenient location.

What Obi-Wan was hoping was that, on this floor, he could get a clue of the man Anakin had become.

He was searching for, if not a weakness in the Empire, a weakness in Anakin.

Walking down the hallway silently, Obi-Wan kept his senses alert. He sent out a gentle wave of Force power to sweep the entire level. He detected no movement from any of the rooms. When he decided the floor was completely devoid of life, he went back to his starting point and began his search by opening the first door on the left. Once again, a physical lock held up his procession. Obi-Wan growled softly in frustration: having to physically pick the lock took longer than simply using the decoder.

Finally, the lock sprung with a slight _click_. The door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. Obi-Wan quickly entered the room and closed the door behind him. He examined all the corners of the room, searching for a camera. Having found none, he then took the time to observe his surroundings. Obi-Wan rifled through storage cabinets, but found nothing of importance. Blank papers…pens…paperweights…the room seemed to be used to hold office supplies. Once, Obi-Wan got his hopes up when he saw a spiral notebook, but when he flipped through it all the pages were blank.

Deciding that the room held nothing important, Obi-Wan replaced everything carefully, locked the door from the inside and let it shut behind him with a _click_. No wonder there weren't any cameras. If this was just a storage level, he would find nothing more important here than equipment. The two rooms after that were equally unrewarding. One held spare droid parts and the other electronic equipment.

By the time he had come to the fourth room, his lock-picking skills had improved. It took only a minute to open this door. He walked in, expecting to see the exact same thing as the rooms before or something equally meaningless to his objective. But he halted quickly when he discovered that this room was different.

It was a small room with no windows, lined with shelves holding data files that ran along all four walls. The wall to the right was mostly bare, as if waiting patiently to be filled. In the center of the room was a holoprojector that seemed to be in working order. For a second, Obi-Wan worried that all the disks were blank, and this was just another storage room. But a closer inspection revealed that each disk had a label on its case. Excited, Obi-Wan started on the shelf to the left of the door, top row, and read a few of the labels, still not touching anything.

_A…AA…Abandon…Abashment…Abattoir…_

The last made him shiver—he knew what he would find on a disk labeled 'slaughterhouse.' He examined a few of the other shelves, and realized that everything was in alphabetical order. His hand almost touched the 'Abattoir' disk, but then he let it drop. No, he was not ready to view that yet. Instead, he drifted over to another wall and scanned the titles of the disks over there. One title, 'Peace,' caught his eye and he pulled it off the shelf. He took it out of its case and inserted it into the holoprojector. Pressing the play button on the machine, he watched intently. He was curious of what Anakin would keep in a disk labeled _peace_. Would the disk show a secret peace-treaty, a denouncement of peace, a scenic view that Anakin thought was calming?

For a few seconds the blue light shone from the holoprojector in abstract shapes. Then the shapes clarified, and Obi-Wan was—

Staring at himself.

"What?" Obi-Wan muttered to himself, puzzled. The holoprojector brought into focus younger versions of himself and Anakin; they and the surrounding scenery were coated in a layer of blue caused by the projection lasers. The thin sheen of blue gave everything a surreal feel. Obi-Wan managed to contain his surprise and focused on the younger him and Anakin. It was disconcerting to watch himself. The holographic figures were sitting down in a heavily wooded area, just…talking. Apparently they were having an argument, but it was done playfully. Neither he nor Anakin seemed willing to back down. Anakin smiled and laughed; the action was disquieting with the sound off. Fiddling with the holoprojector, Obi-Wan was able to get audio.

_"—got us into the mess, and you'll get us out of it, my young, troublesome Padawan,"_ the holographic Obi-Wan said. He sat himself down on a tree stump and looked expectantly at Anakin. _"Well?"_

_"That's what I've been trying to say to you all this time, Master!"_ Anakin exclaimed as he laughed again. _"I have a plan."_

_"Of all the missions you could mess up on… This isn't even a difficult assignment…"_ Obi-Wan rubbed the heel of his palms into his face. _"I'll be the laughing stock of the Jedi Temple… Mace Windu will be breathing down my neck for weeks on end, and Yoda will look even smugger than normal…ugh, he'll probably try to give me advice again… 'Tame that apprentice you must, Obi-Wan!' 'Try bribing with chocolates, Obi-Wan.' 'Maybe if you held your lightsaber at a better angle, respect you your young Padawan would more.' "_

_"Well…since you are learning a new fighting technique, your stance is pretty sloppy right now…"_ Anakin added helpfully. _"I mean, it's gotten to the point where I can beat you pretty easily."_

_"Once,"_ Obi-Wan groaned. _"That was only once, and it didn't count. I wasn't feeling good that day."_

_"Maybe I'm just getting better,"_ Anakin said amiably, chest puffing out a little.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan said flatly, _"No way, I'm not going to admit to that until you actually start practicing like I ask you to. You can't just prance around, expecting everything to fall into your lap…you have to work for it."_

_"Aha! You said 'admit'! So that must mean that I am getting better!"_ Anakin brandished a finger at Obi-Wan's sitting form. _"And you always tell me at lessons that my blocks are horrible…"_

_"They are: it's your swings that are decent,"_ Obi-Wan muttered absently, gazing around at their surroundings.

Anakin ran a hand through his hair (the action very similar to a preening rooster). _"I knew it,"_ he claimed smugly.

Obi-Wan sighed and mumbled to himself, _"I knew I shouldn't have said that… It'll take a thorough whomping in lightsaber duels to knock that arrogance out of him again…"_

_"I doubt you'll be able to, Master. Not with that stance and my improved fighting skills."_ Anakin puffed up even more. Obi-Wan muttered something unintelligible in response. Anakin ignored whatever was said, and sat down by Obi-Wan. Since there was no room on the tree stump, he seated himself on the grass right by Obi-Wan's feet. _"Okay, now that we aired out a few well-hidden compliments… I have a plan to get us out of this situation."_

_"Zounds, not again."_ But Obi-Wan straightened up a bit and gave his full attention to Anakin. He grinned as he sat on the grass by Anakin (in doing so making them of equal heights). He explained his actions to his slightly mystified apprentice: _"It's so that when you tell me your 'wonderful' plan, I'm not floored—can't really fall to the ground if I'm already on it."_

_"Haha,"_ Anakin said dryly, although the corners of his mouth quirked upwards against his will. _"Great pun there, Master."_

_"I try,"_ Obi-Wan said, pleased with himself. _"Someday you too, Anakin, may understand the fine art of puns."_

_"Anyways, as I was trying to say before I was rudely interrupted…"_—Anakin gave Obi-Wan a meaningful look, which his master pretended not to notice—_"I have a plan. While the Gungans weren't happy with our entrance—"_

_"You pierced one of their bubbles with your reckless flying!"_ Obi-Wan exclaimed. _"I don't think 'not happy' covers it. That entire section of the city was swamped with water… We're lucky they didn't do more than just deposit us in the swamps and threaten us to stay away on the penalty of death."_

_"Boss Nass remembers us from before, I'm sure he'll let us come back—"_

_"The only reason we weren't executed on the spot was because Boss Nass was indebted to us! I think he feels that his debt has been covered. Any return on our part won't be met by sympathy and understanding on his part."_

_"Not helping."_ Anakin rolled his eyes. _"We still need to give that apology note to Boss Nass from the current Naboo Queen…we can't rest until our mission is completed."_

_"Why did she have to have Jedi deliver that note to Nass? I mean, what are we, a droid delivery service? Should I start charging for distance? Perhaps we should start asking our clients to fill out forms rating our performance, and hand out discount coupons if they are dissatisfied and start complaining,"_ Obi-Wan grumbled, folding his arms in his cloak.

_"I thought Jedi were supposed to be complacent and accommodating, Master. You don't seem very complacent right now,"_ Anakin teased. _"How can you expect me to follow your teachings when you don't yourself? You're not setting a very good example for my impressionable, young mind…"_ At Obi-Wan's dark glare Anakin added quickly, _"I think she asked Jedi to send the letter because she wants to make a good impression—by sending us, she's showing that the letter is important enough to her to put in a little extra effort."_

_"And their argument all started over whether or not the Gungans should share their underwater plasma mines with the land-living inhabitants. Honestly, there are plasma mines in the mountains and plains of Naboo…why couldn't the Queen just search there? But no, she wanted to take the easiest route and mine the all-ready found sources…and look were she ends up: she got nothing out of the Gungans and stressed their already stressed relationship. What a nightmare."_ He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. The growing lengths were starting to stick up from all his fretful ministrations. _"And the Jedi Council assigned us to this mission specifically because we had—note that I used the word 'had,' not 'have'— good relations with the inhabitants of Naboo…"_

_"On the bright side, I don't think we'll be getting any more Naboolian assignments in the near future,"_ Anakin added optimistically.

Obi-Wan just gave him a look, not even gracing the comment with a response. He sighed and leaned his head back up against the tree trunk.

_"Look, since you obviously don't want to hear out my plan, you'll just have to follow my lead, okay Master?"_ Anakin asked_. "I've got it all figured out…everything will turn out all right, I know it. I have your trust, don't I?"_ Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, his face serious as he searched his master's eyes for the truth.

Obi-Wan grinned and ruffled Anakin's hair affectionately—ignoring Anakin's halfhearted protests that the action was degrading—and said, _"The Council would have my head if they knew I was taking orders from you."_

"Obi-Wan…?" a voice rang out, its source clearly not from the holoprojector. It held surprise and suspicion.

The hologram still playing in the background, Obi-Wan turned around and said weakly, "Hello, Anakin…"


	7. Dark Rooms

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block: http: (double slash) en .wikipedia .org /wiki /StarWars** This is a great site for Star Wars information. I referred to this constantly to find information. You can also input into the search engine **Lightsaber Combat**, **Jedi**, **Sith**, **Holocron**, **List of Star Wars races**, and **Force Powers**. If you follow the blue-word links in these articles, you can get to practically anything. Type any words into the search engine, and see what you can find. But the ones I listed were the ones I found the most useful. This is a great site, with lots of information. Go wild. :)

I decided to have a cliffhanger for the last chapter. Just to mix things up, since I don't normally do them. It was fun, wasn't it? ;) Anywho, I like using the holograms to give you information—I had fun with that. I am trying to type with a meowing friend to my right, and it is very difficult. She is crazy, but she will be going soon (not forever, though…darn kitties, gotta love 'em ;) ) since she came over uninvited. She's squeaking now; she has a wide array of animal noises, but she lacks intelligent human ones.

Okay, I'm done bashing my friend now. :) (I do love her, though, even if it's not that apparent right now.)

Alchemy dream had a good point of me not being concise…well, part of that _is_ just my writing and won't change, but I'll try to be more aware of that problem. I guess I just need to find a balance between being elusive and being evident. But thank you for critiquing me on that—I will strive for improvement. However, if I _really_ seem to go off track there is usually some symbolic purpose behind it. Such as the permanent marker marks on the wall: they were supposed to symbolize troubled pasts. You can't really erase the past—and the harder you try to the worse your mess becomes—but you can _paint over it_. Anakin tried to wash out his past, and this messed him up even more. Obi-Wan (always on the other end of the spectrum) painted over his problematic past. So his past mistakes are still there, but they are less noticeable. Perhaps he's not even aware of them himself now.

I'm trying to incorporate some of the literature elements of good stories into mine, and hidden symbolism is a big one. I know that I'm still experimenting with writing, and not everything is going to be good, but I want my story to have depth. But perhaps I'm not doing a good job at hinting at the hidden depth, and you guys only think I'm crazy when I have those rambling paragraphs. Most of them have a hidden meaning in them, I swear. XD Well, even if you're not looking below the surface, it's still a good story (I hope). Please, please, criticism and comments. And please, please, _please_, enjoy, above all else. My happiness comes from yours. :)

**Page Amount: **5 (sorry for such a little chapter)

**Word Count: **3,708

Written 7-14-05

Listening to: Sting "Desert Rose"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Seven**: Dark Rooms_

Anakin stepped closer to Obi-Wan, towering over his smaller form. "What are you doing here, Obi-Wan?" Anakin looked serious. The blue rays from the hologram reflected in his eyes, coaxing them to become an impossibly deep, piercing blue. He gaze flickered to the hologram before returning to the Jedi once more. The surreal cobalt blue of his intense eyes unnerved Obi-Wan. "I thought I made it clear that these floors were for business."

"Well, yes, you did," Obi-Wan said haltingly, trying to buy himself some time. He had no clue what to do—what to say—how Anakin would react. He opted for the lie closest to the truth, and told Anakin, "Leia was driving me up a wall, so I decided to take a walk…I went down the stairway and checked out whatever rooms I came across. I was just bored, really… I didn't expect to actually find anything…"

"So now you can walk through locked doors." The unsmiling expression never left Anakin's face. An irrational desire seized Obi-Wan, and he wanted desperately to smash the holoprojector. He wanted to kill the light that made Anakin's eyes blaze so strongly, but he was afraid of how Anakin would react to his actions—he was afraid of this violent impulse himself. Anakin's grave voice brought his attention back to the man before him, "Somehow, I don't think that's a trick you picked up from the Jedi."

Obi-Wan grabbed at the first thing floating in his mind: "They were locked?"

Anakin tilted his head to the side and stared out at Obi-Wan from the corner of his eyes. The cool look gave Obi-Wan the shivering feeling that Anakin was dissecting his every word and action. Anakin's icy blue eyes narrowed and he said coldly, "Don't try to play mind games with me." His voice sounded bitter, acidic.

Obi-Wan tried to put an apprehensive expression on his face—and could feel himself failing. "I'm not. They weren't locked when I went through them. You know me…do you really think that _I_ would sneak into locked rooms, Ani?" The nickname slipped out before he could stop it; he was too nervous to control everything he said.

The use of Anakin's nickname made him more suspicious; Obi-Wan instantly realized his mistake when Anakin's face darkened and his eyes narrowed.

Obi-Wan sighed, admitting defeat. There was no way for him to outmaneuver Anakin's logic unless he drastically changed his tactics and caught Anakin off guard. "You caught me, Anakin. Yes, I did break into these rooms." The look he gave Anakin was almost defiant.

"Why?" Anakin asked, hurt apparent in his voice if not his eyes.

Obi-Wan looked away, to the hologram still playing. "I wanted to know more about you…I don't know you anymore."—he glanced furtively at Anakin before returning his gaze to the blue holofigures—"I really don't. And I _want_ to know you. For four years I've been trying to shut you out of my life, and now… Well, I only hope that it's not too late to correct my mistakes."

Obi-Wan watched Anakin. The Sith Lord was silent, his face combating conflicting emotions. Anakin's hand lifted, and for a moment Obi-Wan feared that he could see past the lies—that Anakin was going to Force strangle him. But Anakin was two very separate men: he was Anakin, and he was Darth Vader. It was Anakin lifting his hand, and it was Anakin who set it down on Obi-Wan's shoulder. Darth Vader still slumbered in Anakin's soul, but Obi-Wan knew if he wasn't careful he might wake the blood-hungering beast. A situation he'd rather avoid.

"All you had to do was ask, and I would give it to you. I would tell you anything you wanted to hear," Anakin said forcibly. His mechanical right hand tightened on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I would have told you."

"…I think I knew that," said Obi-Wan quietly. "I also think that I was just too proud to ask."

"But not now." Complete conviction coated his voice, making the words hang thick in the air.

"Not now," Obi-Wan echoed softly.

Anakin stared into his moss-green eyes before abruptly turning away. He turned off the hologram with swift, jerking movements of his hands. He removed the disk and placed it in its case carefully, gently caressing the plastisteel cover in an almost loving way before sliding it into its holder on the shelf. After he had done all this, he turned back to Obi-Wan. "Ask," he commanded imperiously.

Startled by how fast Anakin had gone from one mind-set to the other—but not letting the moment slip by—Obi-Wan asked, "How did you record that? Our peace note delivery mission on Naboo?"

"Artoo-detoo records everything that he sees. I programmed him that way. Normally, I just wipe away the useless images once I feel that enough time has lapsed that they've become a pointless waste of memory storage. But other hologram recordings I keep. This is one of the many memories of Artoo that I saved." He stiffly waved a hand to encompass the entire room.

"…Are all of these Artoo's memories?" Obi-Wan gazed at all the recordings; there looked to be too many for just one droid to have…

"No, they aren't."

"Well, where do they come from—how do you get them?"

"Here and there, by different means."

Obi-Wan, sensing that Anakin's responses would remain this evasive and terse if he continued with the same line of questioning, altered what he was going to say next. The consequences could—_would_—be dire if he made Anakin feel cornered or uncomfortable.

"Why did you label that disc 'peace'? If I remember correctly, the ending was nowhere close to peaceful." Obi-Wan chuckled at the memory, even though he had no reason to, being in such a dangerous situation. Perhaps his nerves were frazzling to the point near hysteria, and that's why he couldn't help but laugh. "Zounds, I'm starting to remember it all now… The Gungans nearly killed us when we came back, but somehow you talked them out of it. I don't even know how, but you did it. But you know, Yoda still found out about our little mishap with the Gungan city bubble… He gave me so many lectures for a month afterward that I feared I would start talking like him."

Anakin's stiff stance relaxed the more Obi-Wan talked, as he allowed himself to bask in the memory. "That's the reason," he said, smiling for the first time, "I chose to call it 'peace.' "

"Hmm?" Obi-Wan questioned, slightly bemused. "Because I got scolded by Yoda?"

"No! Not at all!"—but Anakin did smile at the thought of Obi-Wan being lectured by a green man one-third his height (if even that)—"It's because it's one of those memories that you look back on, and while they were a pain-in-the—"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan warned. "You have children, and should not be using such vulgar words. Refinement, please."

Anakin rolled his eyes, but replaced the word he was going to use with something more appropriate: "butt at the time, you can look back on them and laugh. Watching that hologram brings back good memories, so many of them, and makes me feel happy. For a few moments, I am allowed this feeling of absolute peace as I drift through the memory. It's a complete feeling, right here." He patted the center of his chest.

Obi-Wan watched Anakin silently for a moment. Then he smiled hesitantly. "You've grown up."

Grinning, Anakin responded, "And you haven't grown at all." He straightened his lengthy form to emphasize their height differences.

"I can't stand being by you when you get into this mode of thinking," Obi-Wan muttered.

"Only because, in doing so, everyone else realizes just how short you are," Anakin teased. "Can't talk yourself out of that situation, now can you? One of your few shortcomings."

Obi-Wan said with astonishment, "Anakin, I believe you've just learned how to make a pun!"—Anakin nodded happily—"And you certainly took your time in doing so. For a while I thought you were too dense to really grasp the concept…" Obi-Wan shook his head in mock sorrow.

Anakin sighed. "Let's get you back to where you belong. Come with me, and I'll show you the proper procedures for entering and exiting. But," Anakin looked at Obi-Wan warningly, "I never want to see you wandering on any floors containing business again. You have been warned: the second time I won't be so forgiving." Anakin's eyes pierced his, almost violent in their intensity. "And don't lie to me again. Ever."

Obi-Wan fought the shiver that threatened to work its way down his spine; for a second he had witnessed Darth Vader.

"Say, Anakin…" Obi-Wan asked as they got into the elevator, "How did you find me?"

"Oh, I have my ways." Anakin looked mysterious and dark, a smile ghosting over his features. A smile that was wrong somehow, on some basic level. A Mona Lisa smile that spoke of secrets. Of knowing.

"Really…" Obi-Wan said nervously, wondering—worrying—if Anakin was hinting at something.

"No." Anakin laughed at the look of perplexity on Obi-Wan's face. "I was just messing with your head, to see how nervous I could get you. Looked like it worked too," Anakin teased, "judging from you expression. In all honesty, I just happened to be going there myself. I was as surprised as you were when I found you."

"So I wasn't the only one nearly having a heart-attack?" Obi-Wan asked hopefully.

Anakin chuckled. "I wasn't quite to that stage yet."

"Oh." Obi-Wan paused. "Me neither."

Anakin laughed.

* * *

Obi-Wan sighed, letting his frame sag. He finished pulling on his pajama top and tied the string to his thin cloth pants. Though Anakin hadn't pressed him after the initial volley of questions, Obi-Wan still suffered from the whole ordeal. For Anakin to have found him…he was lucky to still be alive. Or maybe he'd had bad luck, he mused, since it was chance that had allowed Anakin to find him in the first place.

Shrugging it all off as unanswerable, Obi-Wan sat down on his bed. He had avoided spending more time with Anakin on the plea that he was tired and needed rest. The same trick that worked on Leia worked on Anakin, and Obi-Wan was left to his own devices in his room once more. Only, this time he wasn't going to go wandering; all he wanted to do was sleep. His muscles felt heavy and sluggish, as did his mind.

Not even feeling up for meditation, he squirmed under the covers and flicked off the light switch with a little, honed Force push. Darkness enveloped him, and he closed his eyes. Sleep would come when it did; Obi-Wan let his mind float in a half-unconscious, half-conscious state while he waited for the Night Mare to carry him into the realms of dreams.

Just as he was about to drift off to sleep entirely, Obi-Wan heard the faint _click_ of a door opening. Sitting up, breathing heavily, he blindly tried to see what—or who—was there.

"Calm down, it's only me," an amused voice drifted over to him lazily. A lanky form opened the blinds of his window, and the glow of neon lights from the city entered. The luminosity defined the outline of a person. White teeth flashed in a smile, contrasting brilliantly with the darkness.

"Well, 'only you' nearly gave me a heart-attack," Obi-Wan grumbled. "What in heaven's name are you doing here? And _how_?" He remembered locking his door to keep intruders like this _out_.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Anakin said apologetically as he sat down on the side of Obi-Wan's bed. "Didn't you realize that we share a bathroom? There's two doors in it: one leading to your side, one to mine."

"Oh, that explains a lot," Obi-Wan replied faintly. No, he hadn't noticed; he supposed he was so tired that he had overlooked the obvious simply because he hadn't expected it. "Will I be getting many nighttime visits?"

Anakin grinned, and Obi-Wan winced as the sharp flare of white met his night-in-tuned vision. "Never know."

"Well, I would like to get some sleep, and if you continue to disturb me and barge in here unannounced I'm going to be a zombie tomorrow." Obi-Wan pointed at the bathroom door. "I believe you can show yourself to the exit."

Drawing closer, Anakin whispered teasingly, "Grumpy as ever, aren't you? Relax, I just want to talk, to be with you. God, I haven't had a chance like this in so long…"

"A chance like what?" Obi-Wan mumbled into his pillow. He figured if Anakin wasn't going to leave, he was going to try to fall asleep anyways. If he got Anakin to ramble on long enough perhaps his voice could be used as a white noise, and he could finally get some rest.

"A chance like _this_," Anakin said emphatically.

"I believe you already mentioned that." Obi-Wan yawned and tried to burrow farther into his blankets. However, his tugging didn't do too much good, as Anakin was sitting on the quilt and making it immovable. "Can you scoot over so I can get some more blankets?" Obi-Wan heard the soft rasp of fabric as Anakin got up, and said "thank you" sleepily as he pulled the covers up and over his head. But when a hand gently tugged the blankets off his head, Obi-Wan realized that Anakin had scooted nearer. "I hadn't meant for you to get _closer_," he grumbled.

"Obi-Wan…at least listen to me for a little while longer," Anakin pleaded, an underlying anger and impatience tingeing his words harshly. It made Obi-Wan wary and silent. "What I mean to say is that I almost never get a chance to be truly, genuinely alone with you. While I love Leia and Luke to death, they sometimes get underfoot, and whenever I try to talk to you at the Jedi Temple there's always a youngling or two hovering about…no matter where we are, there's always someone else around. Right now, right here, it's just the two of us."

"We're both busy people," Obi-Wan spoke through his pillow, "It's only natural that we don't have much time to ourselves."

"But it's not," Anakin said quietly with strong emotion. The anger flitted through Anakin's self-control and revealed itself. "It's not natural that we can't find time to just enjoy each other's company! It drives me mad!" he whispered out harshly. "And you just go about your day, as if you've never been haunted by desires and impulses, as if you've never been plagued with soul-wrenching needs. As if you've never dreamed, only to have that dream twisted into a cruel nightmare when you finally wake to realize it was just that—a dream. Nothing more, nothing less than just a dream."

Anakin moved closer to Obi-Wan, as if by physically closing the distance between them he could do so mentally. "Do you ever feel anything?" Anakin asked in despair. His breath hit Obi-Wan's cheek gently, and it smelled of peppermint toothpaste.

Obi-Wan pulled himself into a sitting position, sensing that this conversation was important to Anakin. "Yes, I feel many things," he said calmly. It was better to let Anakin do most of the talking, and only respond when asked a direct question. He sensed that Anakin had something he desperately wanted to say, and any speech on his part would only agitate Anakin. What Anakin wanted was not conversation, but a listening ear.

Anakin rounded on him. "But _what_?"

Obi-Wan paused, thinking. He said painstakingly slow, "Love, compassion, friendship—and yes, sometimes anger, regret, and impatience. Feelings are a natural part of life. You just have to accept them as they come, and then move on."

"But what if you aren't supposed to move on," Anakin argued heatedly, making sure to keep his voice down. If Obi-Wan's voice was the steadiness of the turtle, Anakin's was the frantic pace of the hare. "What if you're meant to remember, and let all those emotions build up? They are a part of the soul. You can't simply discard them one by one as you are done with them. Feelings keep us alive. By letting them go, you're letting go of pieces of your life. You're slowly _killing_ yourself."

Obi-Wan said nothing. Anakin was not seeking Obi-Wan's truthful opinion; he was seeking comfort. Since Obi-Wan didn't have the heart to give him false comfort or harsh truth, he let his silence speak for him.

Anakin whispered quietly, wildly, "I won't let my life drift away from me—I refuse to die." And suddenly Anakin's lips were crashing down on Obi-Wan's.

Obi-Wan jerked back instantly, cracking his head against the wooden frame of his bed before he shrunk down against his pillow. Anakin's arms boxed him in on both sides. "What are you doing?" Obi-Wan whispered harshly. "Have you gone mad?"

Anakin leaned down closer to Obi-Wan, letting his cool breath ghost over Obi-Wan's cheek. "More desperate than mad." He smiled down at Obi-Wan. "My love fuels my desperation." He shifted until more of his upper body was hovering over Obi-Wan's blanketed, prone form. "I need to be with you. Every day that you're away—and then when I see you again—yes, I guess I am mad." Anakin chuckled, the sound rumbling around in his chest before bubbling up his throat and rolling off his lips.

Obi-Wan hissed out, "Get off me this instant, Anakin Skywalker! I won't partake in this—in these carnal desires of yours!"

Anakin was stung; he looked at Obi-Wan through hurtful, betrayed eyes. "It's nothing like that. This isn't about physical pleasures…it's about here"—for the second time that night, Anakin patted the center of his chest—"It's about love. If you don't want to kiss, if you don't feel comfortable with intimate contact, that's all right. Just hold my hand, talk to me, smile at me…" Anakin murmured persuasively, "Anything to sooth this desperate need in me." The Coruscanti traffic sent bursts of sporadic light into the room, illuminating and darkening Anakin's pale blue eyes and their hungry need.

Obi-Wan sighed. He quieted his initial shock and tried to make the best of the worst situation possible. He commanded calmly, "Anakin, get off of me." Like a man who couldn't help but obey orders, Anakin slowly got up from his leaning position to become seated upright again. "Now, we need to talk this out in a reasonable fashion."

"Reasonable!" Anakin barked a laugh. "You have too much reason and not enough feeling, Obi-Wan." He reached out a hand as if to trace Obi-Wan's cheekbone, but withdrew it at Obi-Wan's glare.

"Keep your voice down so you don't wake the children," Obi-Wan warned him. "I think this is all a misunderstanding—"

Anakin snorted.

"—and you have confused your feelings," Obi-Wan continued, completely ignoring Anakin's disrespectful interruption. "The bond between Master and Padawan is very strong and complex. Because of that, Padawans often misdirect their thinking by labeling that bond a simpler emotion, say 'love,' as is your case."

"I know what I feel," Anakin said harshly. "I know what is real. Stop trying to analyze it—to analyze _me_."

"Anakin, calm down…you aren't the first person to make this mistake and you certainly won't be the last. I myself made this mistake once."—Obi-Wan noticed the flicker of hope in Anakin's eyes, so he clarified his meaning—"It was with my own Master. What you are really feeling is a mixture of brotherhood, a father-son relationship, friendship, platonic love, respect, admiration, and trust, among other things—there are too many to name them all. You have simply lumped all these emotions together and wrongly named them 'passionate love.'

"It's not uncommon, and I think that every Padawan has suffered from this at least once in their life. To have lived in what was like a small community, doing everything together…training together, eating together, growing up together, and then to gain a Master, who focuses solely on you and gives you a taste of what family and individuality are… You experience so many new emotions all at once and don't know what to do with them. And then you add in the adolescent longing for physical comfort—and here is this knowledgeable, older person who's looking out for you, who you look up to…" Obi-Wan stopped, realizing he had begun to drift off track. "Yes, it is a mistake that every Padawan must make, and overcome, to become a Jedi Knight."

But Anakin hadn't heard the last part; one unbearable thought kept echoing in his head, deafening him to everything else Obi-Wan said. "You felt…_this_ way about Qui-Gon?" The night, while cloaking his face, could do nothing to hide his jealousy and anger.

"You're not listening to me…" Obi-Wan sighed again, his breath whistling out between his teeth. "What you think of as 'this' is nothing more and nothing less than the training bond that all Masters and Padawans create and share. It is the deep, soulful connection that links us together. It is a spiritual bond, not a physical passion."

"If you've already felt this, then why can't you just accept my feelings for what they are?" Anakin demanded angrily. "You know my sufferings; why won't you lessen them? You can…just a word, just a look is all I ask for." Desperation.

Obi-Wan wouldn't look at Anakin. Instead he gazed outside, into the dazzling whorl of colors that was made up of speeding hovercrafts and neon lights.

"I am a Jedi foremost."

It broke Obi-Wan's heart to deny Anakin that small comfort which he begged for. But he knew that Anakin would be better off in the end if Obi-Wan terminated this senseless infatuation before it truly blossomed—even a word or two could have destructive results. He wouldn't allow Anakin to travel down this path of self- devastation.

"I'm sorry, Anakin, I truly am," Obi-Wan said with honest regret.

"Not nearly enough," Anakin spat out.

Anakin stalked out of the room, leaving Obi-Wan to his thoughts and flashes of Coruscanti traffic headlights, and eventually to restless sleep.


	8. Mirrors

**Reposted (again. XD) 10-6-05:** Wow, two lovely reviews for one chapter correcting my work! In some ways, I feel glad that I have to post this twice. It means that the little mistakes are being caught and corrected. This time I must thank **alchemy dream** for the suggestion. I reread that sentence, and it did seem a little repetitive, so I took your advice and deleted what was in the parenthesis. Your review was wonderful and long, and I'm amazed at how much insight you have. Yes, you were completely right about me preferring to 'show' than to explain. Oh, and for the lovely review… -hands you a banana pancake- Go nuts. ;)

**Reposted 10-4-05: **Thanks for the nitpicking, **Vee017**, it really helps. :) Yes, I did change that 'English' to 'Basic.' I want everything to fit into the futuristic theme, and I'll try to look for little slips like that from now, now that I'm aware of them. That was very intuitive of you to catch that slight mistake, I must say. I love your reviews; they always bring a smile to my face, and I hope you continue to enjoy my writing. -feels extremely happy since you called this one of your favorite stories-

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block: **Neopian Beauty by **The Water Daemon**. This is a Neopets fic (a great online game that you can play—free!—at www .neopets .com) that is rated K+. I love this fic. The characters are fleshed-out and there are many deep meanings hidden within the words. Water Daemon's writing style grabs your attention and makes it hard to stop reading. But really, the thing I can't get over is how wonderful the personalities are—some of them I couldn't decide if I hated them or felt sorry for them, and others I cheered on the entire time. The plot was intriguing, though the fic more so revolves around the people in it. I honestly think that this fic is amazing, and I find it sad that it's so under-appreciated. Beauty like this deserves respect and reviews.

I had a lot of fun writing the last chapter, and from all the lovely reviews I got (thank you, all!) I can tell that you liked it too. :) Yes, there was finally a little bit of slashiness between Obi-Wan and Anakin…despite how small it was. I'm trying to build up their relationship, and with someone like Obi-Wan that's going to take a looong time. I want everything to be realistic, and I only hope that that's what I'm doing. Anakin was trying to move in on Obi-Wan because he felt that 1) since Obi-Wan had finally accepted his offer to live with him, he figured that meant that Obi-Wan was also ready for a relationship and 2) since he caught Obi-Wan in the hologram room, he probably felt that Obi-Wan owed him one, and a kiss would be just payment. Of course, Obi-Wan knocked those silly ideas right out of his head, didn't he? ;)

Thank you for the reviews, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story. Any constructive criticism is appreciated and highly valued. I love people who nitpick my work and point out the small flaws and holes in it. I know, it's odd, but that's just the way I am.

**Page Amount: **12 (a big chapter, to make up for the littler chapter before. ;) )

**Word Count: **9,756

Started 7-23-05 (just got back from the cruise—my first one, and it was fun. :) ), written 7-27 (I just beat Star Ocean 3! -does a happy dance- it's a good thing that I still have the extra dungeons and stuff to keep my occupied. ;) ), 7-28, and finished 7-29-05

Listening to: Shinedown: Leave a Whisper

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Eight**: Mirrors_

Waking up lazily from sleep, Obi-Wan pulled off the covers. Yawning, he stretched his muscles to prepare himself for the day ahead. He had to get up, make the younglings breakfast, and start planning the lesson for the day. And then he had to—

Obi-Wan's train of thought crashed when it hit reality's roadblock.

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. Right—he wasn't staying at the Temple anymore. He was in the middle of a mission now. The younglings would just have to wake up and get breakfast on their own, Obi-Wan thought with regret. He loved them (a kinship all Jedi feel for one another) and he felt sorry that he would have to frequently leave them on their own. What if they needed him? He didn't even remember if they knew his comlink's transmission code—

He drew a deep breath and quelled his worries. He knew the answer already: he had a list of emergency numbers (his included) on a slip of paper posted on the announcement board, and that same list was saved on every computer. If there were trouble, he would be the first to know. Besides, he was going back to the Temple today to check up on them and give them lessons; he would be at the Temple nearly every day. The daily life of the Temple would hardly be interrupted by Obi-Wan's comings and goings—it was only his sleeping arrangements that changed, really.

Sighing, he acknowledged the difference that nagged at his mind: he could no longer call the Temple home.

'At least for now,' Obi-Wan corrected himself hastily. He would finish this up quickly and then everything would return to normal. It was as simple as that.

Then the rest of last night hit Obi-Wan, and another depressing sigh escaped the chasm of his lips. Because Anakin had caught him snooping around, he guessed the mission _wasn't_ going to be 'as simple as that.' Now he had to be more careful… It was a stupid mistake, he admitted; he should have found some way to monitor Anakin's position. At the very least he should have found some way of knowing when Anakin left or entered the building-house.

Another disheartening thought struck him: breakfast was going to be a nightmare. He looked out the window and saw that the sun had fully risen—he frowned; normally he didn't sleep late—and hoped that maybe Anakin had already eaten breakfast and left. That would instantly solve one of his short-term problems.

He got up and tried to fix his appearance in the mirror; he wanted to look at least slightly presentable before setting out in this foreign environment. In between raking a hand through his hair and straightening his rumpled Jedi tunic, he muttered to his reflection, "You are a Jedi, you are not afraid of table conversations." His moss-green eyes gave him a skeptical look.

Despite the invigorating pep talk, Obi-Wan still felt unprepared when he opened the door.

Pleasant breakfast aromas wafted from the kitchen. Instead of stimulating his stomach, he felt his hunger wither away and collapse into itself. Those smells meant that Anakin was still home—Obi-Wan tried to reach out with the Force to sense Anakin, but all he felt was a void. There was simply emptiness; nothing good, nothing bad. Oblivion.

That, more than anything, convinced Obi-Wan that Anakin was in the kitchen where the void was being emitted from.

Obi-Wan didn't know if Anakin was just blocking his force signature from being detected, or if his reformation to the Dark Side had actually perverted the Force running through his veins—mutating it to this nonentity.

He didn't want to know.

Walking into the kitchen, Obi-Wan steeled himself as he sat down at the table. Anakin's back was to him as he poured batter into a pan on the stove. Obi-Wan wondered if Anakin had noticed his entrance, or if he should—although he dreaded doing so—announce his presence.

"Sleep well?" Anakin asked pleasantly as he stirred the batter. While focusing on the pan and its content, he said, "I made banana pancakes—I hope you like them. If not, I can always whip you up some regular, or anything else for that matter. Do you drink coffee in the morning?"

Obi-Wan, caught mentally unprepared, could only manage a halting, "No—no, I don't drink coffee."

"Good for you." Anakin looked over his shoulder and smiled at Obi-Wan. "It's dreadful stuff, coffee. However, I'm pretty sure that it can't do much more damage to your height." Anakin chuckled at his own joke as he poured more blobs of batter into the pan. They splattered and sizzled on the heated metal, roasting from a colorless yellow to a rich gold. "But what do you drink, then? Milk, juice, tea?"

"Tea would be fine," came the mumbled response.

"Tea it is, then." Anakin bustled around and filled a teapot with water before setting it on the stove by the pan. "Not very good for your teeth, but better than coffee. I personally don't drink either."

"Oh? Then what do you drink?" Obi-Wan's sole motive for asking the question was to gain a bit more time to recollect his thoughts and composure. When Yoda asked him to glean any information he could on Anakin, Obi-Wan was pretty sure he hadn't meant what the Sith Lord drank in the morning.

"Milk." Anakin laughed at Obi-Wan's skeptical expression. "Honestly, it's tasty, it's nutritional, and it's good for bones. What's not to like about it?" He returned his focus to the pan and stuck slices of banana into the slowly solidifying pancakes. The teapot whistled, and Anakin poured some of the steaming water into a mug. "I hope you like green tea," Anakin said as he put a bag of tea into the water, "because that's all that I have at the moment." There was a moment of silence that stretched on as Anakin stared moodily at the darkening water. His warm, bustling attitude seemed to dissolve into black as soon as he became inert.

The silence lengthened to an almost unbearable point (for Obi-Wan—Anakin didn't even seem to acknowledge it) until the tea darkened to a pitch black. Then Anakin was bustling about again as he pulled the bag out of the tea and said apologetically to Obi-Wan (picking up their former conversation almost as if there hadn't been any pause), "If I had known that you liked tea, I would have gotten more of a variety. As it is, you're lucky that I have this much. Do you like anything in your tea?"

"Honey, if you have any." Obi-Wan folded his hands in his lap, unfolded them, and finally clasped them again. He didn't know what to do with them, or himself in this strange environment with this strange-acting Anakin.

"That we have." Anakin smiled. "With two young children, sweets are a must. It's almost as if they live off sugar." He got the honey from a cabinet nailed to the wall and handed the bottle and mug to Obi-Wan. "I'll let you put in the honey yourself, since I don't know how much you like in your tea."

Obi-Wan felt nervous as he poured a small amount of honey into his tea. He put in just enough to taste a hint of honey without the sweetness overpowering the tea's natural flavor, as was his custom. He felt as if he was being scrutinized. When Obi-Wan looked up, he saw Anakin staring at him out of the corner of his icy blue eyes—it was the same dissecting look from last night. Hastily, Obi-Wan looked down again to cap the honey. When he raised his head to look up again, the eyes were gone and Anakin was back at the stove.

"Pancakes are almost ready," Anakin announced. "Well, this is actually the third batch."—Anakin waved a spatula at a stack of pancakes already on a plate on the counter—"I wanted to have enough for everyone all at once, so I held off from serving them. I hope you weren't too hungry waiting. I'll just wake up Leia and Luke, then, if you can stand another delay."

"By all means," Obi-Wan said as he blew gently on his steaming tea. He tried to take a sip and scorched his tongue a bit. Wincing, he grinned weakly at Anakin and said, "Hot."

The Sith smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes and replied, "Be careful with that."

Anakin left the kitchen to get the twins, and Obi-Wan was left nursing a heated mug and uneasy thoughts.

The room was filled with noise once again when Leia and Luke scrambled into the room and plunked down in their seats. "Pancakes!" Leia cheered. "We're having pancakes! _Banana_ pancakes!" Anakin set out enough silverware and plates for everyone. Leia grabbed her fork and started to bang it on the table while chanting 'pancakes.' Luke's hunger was expressed in a quieter way as he gazed hungrily at the pancakes.

Obi-Wan couldn't help but laugh. "Do you ever feed these children, Anakin?" He blew on his tea once again and tried another sip. This one was hot also, but in a good way. He enjoyed the way the tea burned a trail down his throat before settling in his stomach; the naturally bitter taste of the tea and the artificial sweetening of the honey combined pleasantly.

"Oh, I feed them—once in a while, whenever I get around to it. I'm joking, I'm joking!" Anakin exclaimed when he saw Obi-Wan eyes widening over the rim of his mug. "It's just that what I feed them isn't always what they want—they can't have sweets all day every day. And as you can see, this kitchen doesn't get much use… I admit, I'm usually so busy that I have to order takeout for most meals."

"But we like Daddy's food better," Leia declared. "He's the bestest cook!"

"Is that so?" Obi-Wan asked, feeling more secure now that Leia and Luke were there to act as buffers and the tea was settling warmly in his stomach. "From what I remember, when you were my Padawan you practically—or maybe 'literally' is the better word—burned water."

Anakin jerked his shoulders up in sharp shrug. "I had to find a hobby to do in my spare time, and this way my children also profit from it."

"I'm glad that Dad decided to take up cooking as a hobby. His food is _very_ good," Luke said seriously. He clutched his fork and gazed longingly at the pancakes. "Now can we eat?"

"Trying to butter me, eh? Well, it worked." Anakin winked at Luke as he pushed two pancakes onto each plate with the spatula. There was still a healthy pile left on the serving plate when he was done, and he placed those in the center of the kitchen table. He got out butter, syrup, and glasses for himself, Leia, and Luke. He poured milk into the three glasses, ignoring Leia's protests.

"Daaaddy, you know that I don't like milk." She stared sulkily at the white liquid, sloshing it around her cup carelessly. "Why can't I have tea like Obi-Wan? You don't make _him_ drink it, so why should I?"

"Milk's good for you. It helps your bones grow strong. You don't want any broken bones, do you?"

"No, but—"

"And being a female, you especially need a lot of calcium. Later on in life, your body will need that calcium to grow. So I don't want to hear any complaints from you." Trying to make Leia cooperate, Anakin added, "Once you drink your glass of milk I can make you a fruit smoothie if you want. But you have to drink _all_ of it, Leia, or the deal's off."

Faster than a blink of the eye, the milk was gone. Leia gazed up at Anakin with puppy-dog-eyes. "Smoothie please," she said politely, dabbing the tip of her mouth with her napkin daintily.

Anakin chuckled and got out the blender and started mixing fruits and vanilla ice cream. "It's not the healthiest, with the vanilla ice cream, but it's better than some of the alternatives," Anakin chatted to Obi-Wan over the noisy grumblings of the blender as it shredded fruit. "And it gets her to drink her milk." When the contents of the blender were thoroughly chewed up by the metal blades, Anakin got out four more glasses and split the smoothie evenly between them. "Plus, it gives me an excuse to have some myself." Anakin winked at Obi-Wan as he placed the glasses down by everyone.

Obi-Wan took a sip of the smoothie and commented, "This is really good."

Leia rolled her eyes, "Duh, Daddy made it."

"Ouch," Obi-Wan joked as he fake-winced. "Rebuked."

"By a four year old," Luke added helpfully, grinning impishly.

Obi-Wan didn't respond to that; there wasn't really any way to do so and still keep his dignity. They fell to eating, and once again Obi-Wan was surprised with the excellency of the meal. The twins weren't lying—their dad really did know how to cook. Obi-Wan enjoyed his banana pancakes, listening to Leia and Luke banter as they stuffed their faces full. Occasionally he would add a comment here or there, but for the most part he just listened. Once in a while he got an itching feeling in the back of his neck—a feeling he normally got when he was being stared at or in a soon-to-be dangerous situation (but he doubted that the latter would occur here)—but every time he looked up Anakin was always focusing on his pancakes or milk or children. Obi-Wan dismissed the feeling as him being unused to the unfamiliar setting and tried to enjoy his tea. But somehow, the once-enjoyed taste went bitter in his mouth.

Breakfast wrapped up in a lazy way, the food and conversation slowly dwindling down as stuffed bellies sedated people. Companionable silence and the scrapping of forks on plates took the place of talk.

Leia patted her stuffed, slightly puffed out belly. "My tummy's gonna burst," she groaned, although she sounded happy about the fact.

" It's 'going to,' Leia," Anakin corrected her gently but firmly. "That's proper Basic. 'Gonna' is not a real word." Leia stuck her tongue out at him and didn't respond.

"Thanks for the meal, Dad, it was great." Luke smiled happily at Anakin.

"Thank _you_ for the compliment." Anakin ruffled Luke's hair. "I'm glad you liked it. It means a lot to me to hear that you enjoyed it. In fact, I was thinking that I should start cooking breakfast more often—it keeps my cooking skills from getting rusty. Besides, I like us spending family time together in the morning. Your compliment just made me all the more certain that I should." Luke gave an exultant shout, before looking a little embarrassed of his outburst. Anakin laughed and said, "Yes, I think I should most definitely make breakfast more often."

Luke nodded his head, before being tugged out of the room by Leia. Obi-Wan listened to their conversation echo down the hallway, and heard snippets of 'Molly and Polly' and 'tea party.' He grinned; poor Luke.

"Obi-Wan…?" The voice broke gently through his thoughts.

Turning towards Anakin, Obi-Wan hummed questioningly.

"Are you finished with breakfast? I've got something that I want to show you." Anakin was already getting up, waiting expectantly for him.

"What about the dishes?" Obi-Wan asked. He didn't want to abandon the dirty dishes; he still couldn't think of this as 'home' and it didn't feel right to leave a mess lying around. It made his stay here seem more…permanent.

"Don't worry about them, Threepio will take care of it. I bet he's in the greenhouse, so let's go find him first. He's usually up there this time of the morning," Anakin explained as they walked up the two stories of stairs to the greenhouse. "He tries to get most of the gardening out of the way before Leia and Luke trample up there and start bugging him. He may act worried and annoyed about the interruption, but I know that, deep down, he really likes their company. It's just buried _really_ deep down there in that metal chest of his."

"Yes, that seems like typical Threepio behavior." Obi-Wan smiled fondly. If ever there was a robot that was both sillier and more human than any other, it was Threepio. "I have to hand it to you, when you build him…"—he shook his head in amazement—"it's like you built a person. He has a larger range of emotions than any robot I've ever known—or more specifically his predominant emotion is 'worry,' and that is unique for a machine. Well, come to think about it, Artoo and him are probably tied with originality. But I know that you've done some tinkering with Artoo also."

"I just fiddled with their personalities a bit, tweaking them to what felt right. The program systems were a bit difficult, but I managed to create, and then install, in both of them a program that lets them build up their reactions and knowledge through past experiences. Environments, people's expressions and reactions; just about every single detail they observe are saved in the memory bank. So in some ways they can metaphorically 'mature' on their own. In other ways, I made sure that their programming always remained the same—that the fundamentals remain constant. But I won't get into the technicalities, since you won't understand a word of it anyways." Anakin smiled to show that his comment wasn't meant to be taken as spiteful.

"To put it in idiot-terms, a whole bunch of zeros and ones, eh?"

"In it's roughest form, yes. Though I like to think that a little more creativity is involved."

Obi-Wan grinned. "Ever throw a two into the mix?"

Anakin looked confused and asked, "No…why would I do that?"

"Then I don't think you've really been creative enough." Anakin scowled as Obi-Wan laughed. "Just a joke, I'm sorry," Obi-Wan apologized. "It's the best that someone with my technological understanding can make." Anakin looked somewhat mollified by the peace offering.

Entering the greenhouse for the second time, Obi-Wan decided the experience was just as breathtaking as the first. Coruscant was a thriving world full of machinery and buildings, the emblem of advancing technology. This being so, nature was choked out of existence by the masses of concrete and metal. A new sort of jungle took its place, one of steel instead of green. To witness so much living plant life all at once… It made Obi-Wan feel peaceful. Plants lived quiet lives of contentment and died equally quietly. They accepted the natural cycle of life and death. He always envied and admired them for their gentle demeanor, tolerance, and will to survive in even the rockiest terrain. They were everything that a good Jedi aspired to be.

C-3PO tottered over to them and questioned, "Good day, Master Anakin! How may I be of service to you?"

"I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to do the dishes for us. I want to show Obi-Wan something…it did arrive, didn't it?" The question was casually thrown onto the end of Anakin's speech, yet Obi-Wan instantly latched onto it.

"Yes, it has. Quite a rude fellow the delivery droid was—no help at all. I nearly had to do all the work myself of moving it. And that droid spoke such a dreadfully old and outdated dialect of _beeps_ and _boops_ that it was nearly incomprehensible! Oh, but the dishes! I will do them immediately. Excuse me, Master Anakin, Master Obi-Wan." With a jerky bow, C-3PO exited via the stairs the two men had just used.

"I am utterly intrigued now. I hope that you're not intending to keep me in suspense for much longer." Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow, as if to say 'all right, you got my attention—now what is it?'

"All in good time," Anakin said with a smirk. "I think I like this feeling. You've placed me in a very powerful position, you know, with that raised eyebrow of yours giving you away. What if I suddenly don't feel like sharing?"

"I'd think of something," Obi-Wan countered smoothly.

Anakin looked at him sidelong. "I don't know if you're joking or serious."

"Neither do I; care to test the theory?"

Anakin chuckled. "Maybe another day. Well, if you're that impatient, we can go looking for her—instead of waiting for her to come to us when she feels ready, which was what I was trying to do." Anakin set off at an easy pace, scanning the foliage.

Obi-Wan matched his pace, mimicking Anakin's action of looking though he had no clue of just _what_ it was he was searching for. Basically, it was a wasted effort on Obi-Wan's part. " 'She'? May I ask what 'she' would be doing here, of all places? And being transported?"

"If I told you, that would be ruining the surprise," Anakin said lightly, humor coloring his eyes sky-blue.

Suddenly, a musical animal cry echoed out of the foliage. 'This whole place feels more like a forest than anything else,' Obi-Wan thought as trees and plants blocked him from seeing what creature had made the cry. But the sound was so familiar, and he had a sneaking idea of what it was…

A veractyl skidded into view, chirping once again. It—no, _she_, Obi-Wan corrected himself—shook her head and her mane of feathers swayed gently. The lizard-like head titled side-to-side as she viewed the two men standing before her. She let out a softer chirp and butted her head against Obi-Wan. The veractyl closed her eyes in happiness when he petted her leathery head.

Obi-Wan grinned hugely, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe this." The hand never stopped petting the veractyl.

"I thought you would like her." Anakin smiled knowingly. "After I learned about your attachment to that veractyl from Utapau, I knew that you'd enjoy the company of another one of its species."

Saddening a bit, Obi-Wan reminisced out loud. "Boga was an amazing creature…she saved my life, you know. On Utapau." The veractyl tilted her head and chirped questioningly, sensing Obi-Wan's grief. He smiled at her and patted her head reassuringly. "Thank you, Anakin, this means a lot to me."

"I'm glad it does, Obi."

Obi-Wan noted the use of his nickname, and while it irritated him to hear it he was glad nonetheless. It meant that Anakin was forgiving him for last night…or so he hoped. "I wonder what I should name her…" Obi-Wan mused.

Anakin shrugged his shoulders. "It's entirely up to you. She's yours, now." Anakin patted the veractyl's head affectionately. While she enjoyed the petting, it was easily discernable that she preferred Obi-Wan by the way she shuffled a little closer to him and butted her head up against his chest.

Obi-Wan saw Anakin's jaw clench slightly and became slightly worried. He hoped Anakin understood that veractyls mentally bonded with their owner, and there wasn't really room in their heart for two people. "I think I'll call her Kye."

" 'Kee'? Sounds pretty…is there a meaning behind the word?" Anakin questioned.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "None at all." He grinned at Anakin, who returned the smile. "You hear that, Kye? That's your official name—like it?" Kye chirped happily and pranced a bit on her taloned feet. Veractyls were energetic creatures in nature, and Obi-Wan wasn't surprised when she raced off after giving him one last affectionate head butt.

Anakin watched the dragonmount depart. "That's why I had to go so abruptly, yesterday," Anakin said conversationally. "I wanted to get you a veractyl, and of course I had to be there myself to pick it out… I see that it was well worth the time and effort."

"Not to mention money," Obi-Wan pointed out, his features taking on a more jaded tone. "How much did she cost? Is the number even in the digits that I can afford?"

"I've told you before, and I'll tell you now; don't worry about money, Obi. I've taken care of everything, and you don't have to pay a cent. My job pays me well and I have access to many other benefits. Because of that, money is hardly ever an issue for me. So just _relax_. Think of this like a very long vacation where you don't have to worry about being billed afterwards."

"I'm sorry, but… I just can't change my habits so quickly. It's not as easy as you make it seem, although I wish it were. But thank you once again; you have my undying gratitude." Before Anakin could respond, Obi-Wan frowned and asked, "What time is it?"

Pulling out his comlink, Anakin read on the device, "11:42. Why?"

"Stars, I have to go now." Obi-Wan started towards the stairs at a brisk pace.

Anakin caught up to him quickly and blocked the exit with an extended arm. He asked pointedly (and a bit forcefully), "_Why_?"

Refraining from rolling his eyes at Anakin's childish antics, Obi-Wan answered calmly, "I need to be at the Temple to teach the younglings. We usually have meditation around noon, before eating lunch. They still expect me to teach them, and I don't plan on disappointing them. I'm sorry if my departure seems rude and abrupt, but well—some things can't be helped. I do sincerely love your surprise…I just can't stay to fully express my appreciation." Obi-Wan bid Anakin farewell and tried to go around him, but once again he was halted by Anakin's words.

"Wait, Obi—do you need a ride? I can give you a lift to the Temple; it's not far out of my way and I need to get going myself."

Not knowing a way to politely decline, and figuring he'd rather just save the time and money than argue with Anakin and lose anyways, Obi-Wan gritted his teeth into a smile and said, "That would be great. Thanks."

The ride to the Temple went along smoothly. Anakin and Obi-Wan didn't talk, but music played softly out of the speakers so the hovercraft didn't seem quite so empty or the atmosphere quite so tense. Obi-Wan thanked Anakin for the ride once he was dropped off. As the hovercraft faded away into the traffic, Obi-Wan felt a small weight lift from his chest. It was as if he could breathe freer, now.

Walking into the Temple, Obi-Wan decided that he was very glad to be home.

The quiet spirit and reserved nature of the Temple calmed him. The building held so many good memories…along with the bad, yes, but it was the good that stood out stronger in his mind. So many past generations of Jedi had walked these halls. The walls had, in some ways, soaked up their presences. An all-encompassing calm and Jedi wisdom seemed to emanate from the walls. The air was faintly warm, like the hand of a best friend ghosting over his shoulder.

In the past many people he loved had walked these paths, his cherished younglings sought guidance in this sanctuary, and Obi-Wan was sure that future generations would come and go as well. And their spirits and hopes would all, sooner or later, come to reside in these walls, in this home. He could only hope that part of his spirit, too, would be left in the Jedi Temple when he departed. He wished to join the Temple's harmony and help other Jedi find balance within themselves. The Force was a living, breathing entity here. The Force was alive everywhere, but here it was like a flaming cardinal singing gaily; in some places it was no more than the faint rustle of moth wings.

"Master Obi-Wan!" Tarren raced up to meet him. His face split into a huge grin. "I'm glad that you decided to come back."

"Someone has to keep you younglings from wrecking the Temple," Obi-Wan replied mildly, amused at Tarren's breathlessness. "Honestly, I thought it'd take more than a day for you to appreciate me for what I do. Perhaps I should leave more often if I get such enthusiastic welcomes on my return."

"Well…" Tarren shifted slightly on the balls of his feet. "It's just that some of the others were skeptical—not me, of course," Tarren said quickly, too quickly. "But others. They said you weren't coming back…that the Empire finally got you, that you were fed up with us…that you were dead."

Obi-Wan frowned. "I would have thought that you'd have more faith in my abilities and motives." Obi-Wan saw Tarren wince, his cheeks and ears growing faintly red. Obi-Wan corrected himself, "I don't mean 'you,' Tarren. I just mean the younglings in general."

"…Oh." If anything, Tarren's cheeks only got redder.

Obi-Wan wondered if Tarren had been as steadfast in his belief as he claimed, but voiced none of his thoughts. There would be no purpose in doing so.

"If they question you again tell me, and I will converse with them face-to-face. They might just need me to reassure them myself as I did with you. I can understand why they might have been worried and skeptical about me returning, since the information came from you—meaning second-hand—and not me personally." Obi-Wan's frown deepened. "That was a hindsight on my part." It disturbed him that he hadn't thought of this possible outcome and prepared against it.

"But now that you're back, they'll all be okay." Tarren looked relieved himself.

"That is good to know. Now, I would like for the younglings to gather in meditation room number six. I will be with you shortly; I have something I need to take care of by myself."

"Of course, Master Obi-Wan." Tarren bowed respectfully to his mentor. "I'll get the others."

"Thank you." Obi-Wan smiled and waited until Tarren was out of view before going in a different direction. He leisurely walked down the hall until he came to one of the many empty, private rooms of the Temple. Rooms with soundproofed walls and no cameras. Closing and locking the door, Obi-Wan pulled his vibrating comlink from his belt and clicked it on. "Yes?" he asked urgently.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Yoda greeted him formally. He bowed his head, his large ears swaying with the motion. "Contacted you I have to confirm our sources. You have infiltrated Anakin's home, hmmm?"

"My, you do have good sources," Obi-Wan stated, impressed. "Yes, I have managed to get myself into his household. Which, conveniently, Anakin also uses as his work place."

Yoda tapped his gimer stick, satisfied. "Thought this I did, though proof I had not. Beneficial this can be, if prudently you work. Of these actions, what is your first impression?"

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out how to word his thoughts. "I find it…odd," he answered truthfully. "It's as if he doesn't trust the Emperor and feels a need to hide his work."

Yoda nodded his head wisely, his eyes gleaming mischievously. Obi-Wan got the distinct impression that Yoda had already come to this conclusion, and had simply been waiting for Obi-Wan to catch up to his thinking. "Suspect this I do. Suspicions and secrets divide the Empire. Fragile, they are. However"—Yoda rapped his gimer stick commandingly, his eyes becoming solemn once again—"this also makes them alert. They expect the worse, and the worse they find. Proceed with caution, Obi-Wan."

"Yes, well… I think I already ran into that predicament." Obi-Wan felt the back of his neck and ears heat up. His gaze fell to his shuffling feet. Instantly he was transformed back into the awkward, young Padawan Learner who had just messed up his footwork in lightsaber practice, and who Yoda had corrected in front of the entire class.

Yoda's wise eyes snapped towards him, sharp focus replacing good humor. "Know this I did not."

"I was looking up information in a storage room full of holograms when Anakin found me."

Rapping his cane on the ground, Yoda halted Obi-Wan's speech. "Young Kenobi, the difference between Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader I hope you know. What once was is not always as it is. Give not the enemy friendly names."

Flustered, Obi-Wan didn't know how to respond. Part of him knew that Yoda was right—that Anakin was gone, consumed by Darth Vader—but part of Obi-Wan still saw the Sith Lord as Anakin Skywalker. Could he really connect the murderer and the Padawan as one man? Did he _want_ to?

"Meditate on this you will, I see," Yoda said solemnly. "Guidance in the Force you will find. Now, to the matters at hand we must attend."

"Yes…" Obi-Wan tried to pick up where he left off. He couldn't bring himself to call Anakin Darth Vader, so he found a neutral in-between: "Skywalker found me watching a hologram. But I hadn't been viewing anything of real importance—only a recording of one of our missions, the peace-letter one for the Queen of Naboo to be exact—so he hadn't reacted too severely. He was very firm in the fact that the consequences would be dire if I entered any more locked doors, but other than that I was very fortunate." Obi-Wan paused, thinking. "Things could have gone a lot worse."

"Careful you must be." Yoda's face was grave, the wrinkles etching into his green skin. "Much more difficult your assignment will be, now that Vader is aware of your intentions."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I think he only has a vague idea of what I'm doing. I played off our past friendship, saying that I only wanted to know him better—which is a partial truth. That makes detecting the lie harder. I think he knew something was off, but wasn't able to pin-point it exactly."

"The Force is not a truth detector, only a guider," Yoda said wisely.

"This is probably the first time I'm thankful that it's not. If it was, I doubt I'd be living"—an unsettling thought—"and my mission would have been unsuccessful. As it is, I have few solid facts and many speculations."

"Any information, even seemingly insignificant, can play an important role in the bigger picture. Listen carefully I will to what you say."

"Well, the building that he lives in has fifty-three floors. The top three are for living—the fifty-third a greenhouse and the other two acting as a sort of 'two-story' house. The next two are empty, and then after that…everything's business. I was investigating the forty-ninth floor—topmost business floor—when Skywalker found me, so I can't say if all the other levels hold information or if some levels are empty. The stairway can access all of the floors, I'm pretty positive. The lock on the forty-ninth floor was easy to open up, not even computerized, but I'm not sure if it'll stay that way after what happened last night. Like the stairs, the elevator has access to all floors. However, security was tight even on the house levels, so I'm sure that the business floors are practically impenetrable.

"Another interesting fact…an assassin attempted to kill someone yesterday. I'm can't say who the target was with a hundred percent confidence, since his 'weapon' was a reek—meaning that he had very little control over it—but I believe his target was Leia. Someone is unhappy with Skywalker, that's for sure. I don't know if that someone could be a potential ally or not, but its something that I'll try to look into further, if possible."

" 'If possible,' you say. Elaborate on this, you will?"

"This is where we enter theory. I have an abundance of that." Obi-Wan grinned wearily, although the smile felt unsuited for the words and his mood. "I don't know it for a fact, but I assume that Skywalker will try to keep tabs on me. He seems to like to collect holograms, so it's logical to conclude that he constantly uses cameras. He likes digital proof of everything; I'm sure that my activities are no exception. I believe the Temple is the only place I can safely contact you."

Yoda nodded in agreement. "Even the most microscopic spy droid will fail to enter here. In strange ways the Temple's defenses work. Unexplained, except to the Force."

Obi-Wan's opinion paralleled Yoda's; the Temple almost had a mind of its own at times, it seemed. But this only showed in subtle, coincidental ways. He sensed that since the Temple was the focus point for such an enormous amount of Force, not only physical walls but invisible barriers sheltered the Jedi inside.

"Skywalker is a puzzling person. I haven't been able to grasp his ulterior motives yet—on anything he does. An example is how he altered the Coruscant educational system to better it, yet seemed to not care if he ruined lives in the process. He's the reason why thousands of people have lost their jobs, but he feels no pity for them. His laws are meant to help society, but at the same time he's destroying it. He contradicts himself. I honestly don't know if he understands what he's doing, or if he's so cunning in his methods that this outward carelessness hides a more complex plan.

"Consequences seem to matter little to him. Or at least that's what I've come to believe. He's reckless—he always has been."

"Information on his children you have?" Yoda questioned, leaning forward on his gimer stick.

"There's that also… From what I can tell—and this is from the recollections of all the times I've spent with them, not just yesterday—I don't believe he's even attempted to teach them how to control the Force. They seem neither influenced by the light or dark side. In fact, I'm not sure if they even know the power they hold in themselves. They are exceptionally intelligent and mature for their age, and I have a feeling that their connection to the Force plays a part in that. I've been trying to exert a good influence over them whenever possible. Just little mentions when I can slip them casually into a conversation; a Jedi Code here, advice there, an admonishing when necessary."

Yoda was silent for a minute, closing his eyes. Finally, he opened his eyes and announced, "For the best this is. Because of Vader's disregard for training, untainted by the Dark Side Luke and Leia will remain."

"I have a question about the Dark Side…" Obi-Wan said hesitantly.

"Hmmm?" Yoda watched Obi-Wan with his intelligent eyes, his face carefully neutral.

"Can the Dark Side alter a person's life force?"

" 'Can'? Anything is possible for the Force. Can, yes. Possible, perhaps. However, heard of this before I have not. Omniscient the Force is. Reasons there are for the force signature given to us. No purpose there is to alter what is already in-tune to the past, present, and future."

Obi-Wan felt relieved. "So when I couldn't feel Anakin's force signature—you think he's only shielding it?"

"Yes."

"But why? It wasn't like he was in a dangerous situation and needed to keep his identity hidden…"

"Know that you did not."

Obi-Wan didn't know what to make of that, so he didn't say anything. Yoda had insights he could hardly imagine, and Obi-Wan accepted that sometimes he would be unintentionally left in the dark. Some things were hard to explain. Obi-Wan believed that Yoda talked the way he did because his mind thought so far in advance that everything became jumbled when he verbalized it. His mind saw everything with such clarity that he simply forgot the beginning of the sentence and spoke what needed to be said first. The mind overwhelmed the mouth. The rest was added as an afterthought, in an attempt to form a complete sentence and make coherent to others what he instantly understood. Transcending to nearly incomprehensible spiritual depths with the Force could make a person lose touches of realism, like common speech patterns.

But that was all only speculation of Obi-Wan's part.

"Another occurrence yesterday caught my attention. Once he dropped us—meaning myself, Leia, and Luke—off at the building, Skywalker left abruptly. He has an excuse—he got me a veractyl, and told me that was why he left so quickly yesterday—but I don't think that's the sole reason of his departure. He had to have left to do something important or meet with someone of importance. The veractyl was a cover-up for something. I'm not sure if this means the Empire is about to set some big plans in motion or not, but you might want to be careful all the same. Although, from the way Leia and Luke reacted, Skywalker leaving unexpectedly is a common incident."

"Always in motion the Empire is," Yoda agreed. He glanced at Obi-Wan, infinite wisdom in his eyes. "I sense more you have to tell. A weakness you have found, hmmm?"

"…I believe _I_ may be a weakness of his," Obi-Wan confessed. Very little of this made sense to him, and he hoped that by confiding in Yoda he could gain some insight on Anakin.

"Because punished you were not for sneaking around?"

"Well…yes…he didn't punish me for looking at the holograms. But there's more…" Obi-Wan fell silent. He didn't feel comfortable trying to explain what had happened last night.

Yoda seemed to understand. "Friendship leaves marks seen by none, not even their owner. Subtle, this power is that you have over him. Subtly you must use it." Yoda smiled comfortingly, the many wrinkles crinkling up in the corners of his eyes. "Patience. Find your answers you will, in good time."

"Thank you for the guidance, Yoda." Obi-Wan smiled at his mentor. Yoda's generic answers somehow held more meaning than normal because it was _him_ saying them. Yoda had simple solutions for complex problems. Simple answers made solving the problem easier; not everything had to be complicated and Yoda's advice reminded him of that constantly. That this all came from a very complex, yet somehow simple, being made Obi-Wan smile all the more. Life was full of little ironies like that.

The green in Yoda's eyes twinkled, as if he knew what Obi-Wan was thinking; perhaps he did. "For the information, thank _you_, Obi-Wan. Take care. May the Unifying and Living Force guide you." The blue holographic image disappeared, and Obi-Wan turned off his comlink.

Hurrying out of the empty room, Obi-Wan headed to meditation room number six at a brisk pace. He had kept his youngling waiting long enough, and if he delayed any longer they'd probably be too frustrated to meditate by the time he arrived.

When he entered the meditation room he was instantly ambushed.

"See!" Tarren said triumphantly. The Coruscanti human boy grinned hugely. "I told you guys that he was coming! Why didn't you believe me?"

An eleven-year-old Annoodat blinked his four eyes as his lizard tongue flicked out of the corner of his mouth. His scaly features couldn't hold human expressions, but the tongue-flick expressed his annoyance. "How could we know that?" he hissed in Galactic Basic to the smaller boy. While his speech was grammatically unflawed, his lizard tongue and mouth gave his pronunciation an underlying, raspy hiss. Turning to Obi-Wan, the Annoodat bowed deeply and said respectfully, "We are glad to have you back, Massster Kenobi. I apologizzze for the doubt I disssplayed."

"I accept your apology, Skraith. It's understandable, the way you reacted." Obi-Wan clasped one of Skraith's scaly claws in friendship before turning to the rest of the group. Skraith was the oldest of the group and mature beyond his years. The Annoodat had been forced to grow up at too early an age.

Skraith, while only six when he first came to the Temple, had already gotten more than a taste of what the outside world was like. In normal circumstances, Skraith would have been declined. He was simple too old, already molded by outside forces both good and bad. But because the Jedi Order was diminished to such proportions Obi-Wan no longer had the luxury of being selective.

The Annoodat went over to his meditation pad and sat on it, giving the others more room to crowd around Obi-Wan. Darrien, a seven-year-old Coruscanti with a head full of short brown hair and intelligence, sat to his left. Skraith nodded to him, and Darrien nodded back to the reptilian. Theirs was an odd friendship, but Obi-Wan was glad that they found solace in each other's silence.

A Bothan sprung into Obi-Wan's range of vision. Her humanoid face had faint whisker marks painted on the cheeks, and the pupils of her golden eyes were slits. Despite the facial markings and the eyes, her appearance was mostly human. The only other differences were that her ears were longer and much more pointed at the end (like Elvin ears), and her hands were graced with thinner fingers and curved, claw-like nails. The way she carried herself expressed the flexibility and agility of a cat; there was a sense of perfect balance in her movements. "Do you have to leave again soon?" she questioned. "Can you tell us the reasons why? Or are they confidential? Personal?"

Carra always asked many questions so Obi-Wan didn't feel too bad about brushing them off. "I'm here for your meditation lesson, but then yes, I must be leaving again."

Her pointed ears twitched, in either irritation or interest, but she said didn't press for more information. Carra was notorious in the Temple for digging around in personal business that didn't involve her; Obi-Wan would have to watch out for her. Like all his younglings she had a good nature, but she might accidentally ruin his mission with her favorite pastime.

"Messa happy to see yousa, Massa Obi-Wan!" A small Gungan boy tackled Obi-Wan with a flying hug, managing to smack Obi-Wan in the face with his dangly ears. His expressive bill pulled up at the corners in a smile. He was gangly, even at the age of five. Obi-Wan first met him on Naboo when he had gone to Padmé's funeral. Jar Jar Binks had seen some of the odd powers the boy displayed (Jar Jar was a distant cousin of Jarg's, and had stopped by to visit), and had known to show him to Obi-Wan. Jarg was fortunate that Jar Jar knew the signs of a Force wielder: a Gungan being Force-sensitive was unheard of, and the boy's parents were becoming thoroughly frightened of the invisible powers he displayed. If Obi-Wan hadn't stepped in and explained that Jarg's 'sorcery' was nothing more than untrained Force powers, he might have been ostracize from the clan.

Due to the small nature of the group, all the younglings were closer to Obi-Wan than was normally permitted. The lines between Padawan and Master blurred. However, Jarg usually found a way to completely crash over those careful drawn lines. Hugging him was one of those ways. Obi-Wan always wondered if part of Jar Jar's friendly nature had been genetically handed down to Jarg. He noted many similarities to the two distant cousins.

Obi-Wan sighed and pulled Jarg off of him. "I see that you still need to learn to contain your excitement," he commented in an amused, if exasperated, voice.

"Yessa, messa have! Messa been practicing, but messa not very good yet," Jarg said happily.

Obi-Wan smiled, and mentally berated himself for even trying.

"I am glad to see that you are well, Master Obi-Wan." A female Twi'lek bowed respectfully to him, before allowing herself to grin happily. Her white teeth contrasted with her deep blue skin. She was six, the same age as Carra, and the two got along well. The calm, thoughtful nature of Ki'lya grounded Carra, and she kept her wayward friend from getting into too much trouble or accidentally hurting someone's feelings. Likewise, Carra stood up for Ki'lya when her shy friend would not stand up for herself.

"As much as it warms my heart to see that you all missed me, we must return to the normal schedule. My new living arrangement doesn't change the fact that we are continuing all lessons." A groan spread throughout the room, and although Obi-Wan gazed at his grumbling students sternly, he had to hide the smile threatening to show itself.

All the younglings settled down on their pads and waited for him to speak. Ki'lya and Darrien already had calm looks on their faces, while Tarren, Jarg, and Carra fidgeted impatiently. Skraith simply look impassive, neither near the state of mediation nor far from it.

The others, who hadn't had a chance to greet him personally, had arrived at the Temple more recently. Since they were new arrivals, they didn't have such a comfortable bond with Obi-Wan yet and weren't as enthusiastic at displaying their feelings or speaking out of turn. The five that had personally greeted him, and Darrien, had been the founding six that made up his first pupils. The other seven had come along at different times over the last three standard years. By that time, he had made the Jedi Temple his permanent home, and could no longer travel because of his younglings as well as other circumstances. All the newer additions were Coruscanti, a natural occurrence since the Temple was located on Coruscant.

The newer pupils, Obi-Wan admitted to himself with reluctance, fit the Jedi requirements better than the other six.

While he loved the first batch of younglings very much, they all had within themselves a personality flaw of some sort. Jarg impractical; Skraith proud; Carra prying; Ki'lya subservient; Tarren impatient; Darrien uncommunicative. Yet, when he saw them all together, he knew that they covered each other's flaws. As a team, they became far stronger than otherwise thought. And the true power of Jedi lied not in their individual strengths but in the potency of their teamwork. The goal of a Jedi was to gain camaraderie and harmony between themselves and others, Jedi or otherwise.

So while they were either too old, or too impatient, or too world-weary to become Jedi when thought of as individuals, when viewed as a unit Obi-Wan knew that they would make great Knights.

His younger students, the 'Coruscanti crowd' as he liked to call them in his mind, were all young. The oldest, Quinn, was three. He had been the first of the Coruscanti crowd to arrive. He came to the Temple three standard years ago, so he had lived almost all his life here. He had dark hair, dark skin, and dark eyes. This contrasted greatly with his light nature. Quinn was one of those cases where his physical appearance contradicted his personality.

A mother had turned up at the Temple next, handing over her twin girls to Obi-Wan in hopes that they could find a better life than that of the middle-lower working class. The weary mother told them that their names were Rei and Sei, and that she loved them very much but could not take care of them, and to please help them grow up to be strong. They were currently two standard years old. They would have looked identical but for the fact that Rei had brown hair and light-hazel eyes, and Sei had honey-gold hair and brown eyes. They were calm, and shared a deep bond with each other. Sometimes they would end each other's sentences, or do something for one another without even being asked. Often Obi-Wan wondered if they had telekinetic conversations together; twins in nature had a close connection, and coupled with their ability to use the Force that bond could only become more powerful. Perhaps even strong enough, Obi-Wan thought, to let them speak to each other mentally. An intriguing thought.

Huo had entered the Temple nearly right after the twins. He was a quiet, observant child. For being so young, he had an enormous aptitude for thinking. He questioned everything, not because he didn't believe in it, but because he wanted to know _why_. Why this machine worked, or this meditation stance was best, or why the code was written this way instead of that way. He was inquisitive, but he also had the natural ability to know when to stop pushing for answers (unlike Carra). He had a large vocabulary for someone his age. Part of this Obi-Wan knew was because he often asked Obi-Wan to read to him at night when he couldn't fall asleep. While Huo couldn't read himself, he loved listening to the Jedi talk and would follow along as Obi-Wan underlined each word, as he read it, with his finger.

Lilitaa was his most recent student and the youngest. She was only one and half. She had short, uncontrollable bright-red hair and pale blue eyes. She was advance with her motor skills (she could walk well, had a good sense of balance, and could manipulate her fingers with precision), but she had yet to learn speech. She wouldn't even exclaim in baby babble. Her mode of communication was through pointing and other hand or body gestures. She was silent and shy, choosing to stay close to Obi-Wan whenever possible.

If there had been more Jedi Masters to help train the students, Lilitaa would have been placed in a younger age group where she could have matured with students her own age. As it was, Obi-Wan had to teach her with all the other students, and he only hoped that she could grasp the more complex commands. Since she didn't speak, and was far too young to write, Obi-Wan had no way of knowing if she did in fact understand him.

Obi-Wan looked around at his motley crew, and knew that he was just like them: different, not quite fitting in to the society around them.

"Now, can anyone recite to me the Jedi Code?" Obi-Wan asked the younglings, keeping his voice low and level. He wanted his students to be in the right state of mind when they began meditation, and speaking evenly had the effect of calming them.

"There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no chaos; there is harmony. There is no death; there is the Force." Ki'lya spoke in a voice just as serene as his. It was like a gentle spring frothing over smooth pebbles, drifting them farther along on the stream of serenity.

"Well spoken, Ki'lya," he complimented her. "I am sure that all of you have memorize the Jedi Code." Every single youngling nodded, even Lilitaa. "But can any of you tell me just what those words mean?" The group was silent for a long moment. "Come now, surely one of you must have the answer. Anyone can memorize; only the deep can understand."

" 'What they mean'? They say exactly what they mean, don't they?" Tarren's voice rose from the group. "We live in the Force. We should not limit our view to our individuality, but look to the Force and its infinity. We are merely a small part of the whole. Despite what we feel and think, what situations we are in, overall the galaxy, and the Force, stay the same. Thus, no chaos; only harmony resides in the Force. No death, only the Force."

"You are correct. We live in the Force, and the Force lives in all of us. As long as the Force lives in beings, we can never die within it. Only the material, our bodies, can be lost. However, not all can discern the Jedi Code with such clarity as you do."

"Why?" Huo asked, leaning forward on his meditation mat to better hear the answer.

"Some simply don't want to believe. Others cannot compare the words to their life; they see no connection. Some who aren't sensitive to the flow of the Force believe that the Jedi Code passes over them and doesn't affect them, so they don't care and don't bother to try to understand. But the Force works and lives in us all, even those who choose to ignore it."

"How can they ignore this?" Carra motioned with a clawed hand to the air around them. "Don't they want to find out the answers? How can they live so blindly? Knowing there's something out there and just sitting around watching Holonet as if it doesn't matter—" she stopped, biting the inside of her cheek. Her aggravation was shown through the darkening of the marks on her cheeks.

"Some may ask you why you seek the answers so much," Obi-Wan countered, and the frustrated look on her face transformed into an incredulous one. "While you hunt out the truth, some fear it. The truth is not a comfort; it will not bend to your will. Some ignore the truth because, in accepting the Force and its meaning, they would be accepting that their life is not almighty. We do not have complete control of our destiny. Some refuse to acknowledge this."

"Sounds bleak to messa," Jarg said, subdued for once.

"Not always," Obi-Wan smiled reassuringly. "The Force is a guider, not a dictator."

"You contradict," Darrien said, speaking for the first time. His eyes were closed and body relaxed, as if he was already meditating, but his voice was clear and firm. He said no more.

"Not exactly," Obi-Wan gently admonished. "There are times when we must both lead and follow. The Force guides our lives, but in the end it is our choice the path we take. And as for not having complete control—there are always outside circumstances…people, events, objects…that alter our lives in ways unforeseen. Not one person can see into all the possible futures and know exactly what will come to pass, or where their lives will take them at any given moment."

No more questions or statements forthcoming, Obi-Wan said, "Now let us meditate."

As the students settled down to meditate, Obi-Wan tried to follow their lead. Yet thoughts kept bubbling up in his mind, hindering him from melding his mind with the Force. Why did Anakin act as if nothing had happened between them last night? Where had he gone yesterday? Why was he hiding his force signature?

What was he doing right now?

Obi-Wan sighed; the Force was a guide, not an answer.


	9. Mind Trick

**Reposted 11-19-05:** Thanks for critiquing me, **Blaze the Unmaker**. I just tweaked things a tad bit, so there's not much change, but hopefully enough.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block: **Today I'm going to be doing some shameless plugging for my friends. They mean a lot to me, and I want to show them that I care. Of course, most of them don't read this anyways, but oh well… XD It's the principle behind the gesture. Please read their works, it's good! At fictionpress **Ash-chan**, **Blaze the Unmaker**, **Tatianna Blusummers**, **HeartofStone**, and **tearsarefalling** all have profiles. Mostly it's poetry (if you like poetry, then you'll like their stuff), but Blaze the Unmaker is also writing a story. On www .schnoogle .com **Sherri Lyn CarMikel** writes some good Harry Potter stories. It took me a while to figure out how to get to her stories (evil search engines -shakes fist angrily at them-), so I will write out the address to save you the pain. http: (double slash) www .schnoogle .com /authorLinks /SherriLynCarMikel/

A couple people had questions about the last chapter, so I'll try to answer them to my best extent. Kye's name is pronounced as 'key.' I just had some fun with rewording it. The younglings have a purpose in the story…as for what that is, you'll just have to find out on your own. ;) I'm sorry if I seemed like I dumped a whole lot of new characters on you all at once, but since they're a group I introduced them as a group. I'm glad that you liked them…they may be original characters, but I tried to make them realistic and fleshed-out so no one would go: 'Ugh, OCs? No way I'm reading that!' Besides, I had fun finding odd species and giving them accents. I am easily amused.

Thank you for all the reviews. I'm very happy that people are giving me constructive criticism and suggestions to help improve my writing. I hope you continue to enjoy my fic. Feedback is loved, as is the person who gives it to me.

**Page Amount: **6

**Word Count: **4,278

Started 7-29-05 and finished 7-30-05

Listening to: System of the Down "Question!"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Nine**: Mind Trick_

Obi-Wan was trying to teach the younglings the fine art of Persuasion. So far Ki'lya was the only one to fully master the ability (a surprise to him, since normally she was the least-commanding person he knew), but Skraith wasn't far behind. By 'mastering,' Obi-Wan meant that he could feel the tug of their suggestion on his mind; he was too strong-willed for their Persuasion to actually work. Rei and Sei were also becoming proficient in the skill—once again their talent in mental manipulation of the Force made Obi-Wan wonder if they had telepathy abilities. They were much younger than either Ki'lya or Skraith, yet they were catching up at a rapid pace.

Often Obi-Wan found himself wondering if the twins could speak through their minds. Anytime he saw them together the question floated to the fore of his thinking. Of course, he understood that he could easily ask them outright about it, and receive an affirmative or negative answer once and for all…but there was no fun in that. It was one of those mysteries best left undiscovered. It was more fun not knowing than having an actual answer, and he was constantly amused with trying to solve the question on his own. It was a game of wits that he thoroughly enjoyed and did not wish to end prematurely.

"Say it again, Jarg, with less yelling and more urging; you have to make me think that it's _my_ idea."

"Messa trying, Massa Obi-Wan! Messa jus' don't get thissa." Jarg's eyes boggled back and forth on their extended stalks, their jerky movements displaying his frustration and confusion.

Although Obi-Wan felt the distinct need to sigh, he refrained from doing so. He didn't want to hurt Jarg's feelings; it wasn't his fault that Obi-Wan was aggravated. Well, yes, it was, but Obi-Wan needed to deal with his impatience on his own. "You need to extend the Force and wrap it around my mind, blocking all my own thinking so yours can enter unhindered. All this has to be done gently, so that the target is unaware of the change. Because as soon as they are aware of what you're trying to do, they can instantly fight you. Even if they aren't Force sensitive, because this is their mind, they can easily win such a mental tussle. Discretion, not brute force, is the only way to overpower the other's mind."

Since they had no one else to test the Force Persuasion on, Obi-Wan volunteered himself. While they wouldn't be able to overpower his mind, he could at least judge their capabilities and progress since he was the target. A very small part of him, the part that he was ashamed of, thought that Lilitaa would have made the perfect test target. She was still very young, so her mind could be thought of as 'weak-minded'—though to be fair Obi-Wan admitted that hers was only undeveloped. He quickly squelched that particular thought, and afterwards felt ashamed and guilty for even thinking of it in the first place.

He noted that Jarg was concentrating and emptied his mind, letting all his thoughts and emotions melt away like ice on a sunny day. He was trying to make it as easy as possible for the youngling to access the command center of his brain.

"Yousa will hop on yousa foot."

Nothing.

"Yousa will hop on yousa foot!"

Jarg started hopping on his own foot, in an attempt to elicit the same response from Obi-Wan. It was then that Obi-Wan decided that it was someone else's turn to try. "Very well, Jarg, I think someone else should have a go. But before so…a suggestion. I believe your odd accent may be part of the problem. The listener concentrates so hard on understanding the words that they don't compute the meaning," Obi-Wan explained, "Perhaps if you tried giving your commands in your native Gungan dialect, the target would follow them."

Jarg frowned. "Messa don't understand…wouldn't theysa jus' nossa comprehenda?"

"They wouldn't know the words, yes, but _you'd_ know the meaning behind those words. Since this is your suggestion, their brain should, in theory, connect instantly the idea with the words. That way, you don't have to concentrate so much on pronunciation and finding the correct Basic words. You can focus more on the suggestion behind the speaking."

"Yessa. Basic issa hard to speakah. Messa bill don't lika much." Jarg used that bill, so clumsy in Basic, to smile apologetically.

Obi-Wan felt sorry for Jarg's difficulty in speaking Galactic Basic. The Gungan dialect called for a natural upward tilt at the ending of many words, hence why so much of Jarg's Basic had an extra 'ah' at the end. Their bill was better suited for the pronunciation of Gungan, and when used to form Basic words it became hindering instead of helpful. On the flip side, Obi-Wan doubted that any non-billed species could properly speak Gungan.

But on Coruscant Gungan was not spoken, and that helped Jarg none. Only two languages were universal: money and Basic. Naturally, as Coruscant was a universal place, these two languages flourished here while most others died.

Jarg sat down on his meditation mat and closed his eyes, a serious look on his face. Obi-Wan felt Jarg draw a thread of Force power into him, and he knew that his Gungan youngling was practicing. Jarg might not be the best—and he surely wasn't—but he worked hard and tried. And because of that, Obi-Wan was proud of him. Jarg was a good person.

Tarren jumped up to go next. "Blink your eyes!" he said commandingly before Obi-Wan even had time to empty his mind. Tarren grinned triumphantly at him and said, "See? He blinked his eyes!"

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Nice try, Tarren. However, Persuasion does not work that way—hence the name _persuasion_. The mind will instantly oppose a direct command given, no matter how skillful or powerful you are. You must _suggest_."

"Oh. Uh…someone else go while I practice." Tarren instantly started bugging Ki'lya to give away the secrets of suggestion. Far from being irritated with Tarren's insistent nature, Ki'lya answered each and every question patiently to the best of her ability.

Darrien got up from his seat. "I'd like to go next, Master Obi-Wan," he said respectfully. "I've watched the others, and I think I know what to do."

Obi-Wan nodded. Darrien hadn't even tried once since they started this exercise. Instead, he had carefully analyzed everyone else attempts. Obi-Wan was curious to see if this observation had indeed helped Darrien. Clearing his mind, Obi-Wan waited for Darrien to gather the Force around him.

Darrien said in a low, suggestive and mild voice, "You will raise your right arm."

Obi-Wan's right arm twitched slightly.

Darrien smiled, bowed low to Obi-Wan, and returned to his seat. Skraith was looking at the other youngling, but because of his reptilian features Obi-Wan was unable to tell if the expression was one of admiration, disbelief, or something else entirely.

Obi-Wan himself felt a bit of disbelief. Darrien had drawn the Force to him with such rapidity that Obi-Wan had been caught unprepared, and then the precision with which he directed that energy… Obi-Wan, in his surprise, had actually begun to raise his arm involuntarily before he regained control of his senses. While it was nowhere near a perfect use of Persuasion, and he had not only been caught off-guard but with his defenses willingly lowered, that Darrien had managed to make him, a Jedi Master, move his hand was amazing. It exceeded any of his expectations.

"That was very good, Darrien. Had I not been a Jedi, your Persuasion would have worked completely. That entails, class, the target becoming dazed, repeating what you say, and doing every suggestion you insert into their mind. And afterwards, they think it was their own idea. In some cases they may even forget performing the action. However, you must be aware that a few people may actually realize that they were tricked after a period of time—small or otherwise—and if this happens you should be prepared for retaliation. My suggestion is to try to be as far away from them as possible at that point." Obi-Wan smiled, trying to make the situation lighthearted with a joke. A couple of the younglings chuckled and nodded their heads in agreement. Turning from the miniature lecture he had given the younglings, Obi-Wan spoke once again to Darrien, "I must say that I am impressed, Darrien. Persuasion takes a lot of skill and control."

Darrien's dark brown eyes shined with pride, but the look quickly became modest as he bowed his head. He accepted the compliment in silence. But Obi-Wan could swear he detected the faintest of smiles tugging at the edge of his pupil's lips—but then again, perhaps it was just the lighting, and how it threw the corners of Darrien's mouth into shadows.

Obi-Wan would have continued the lesson, but he was disrupted by a voice. "It's getting late, isn't it?"

Turning quickly, Obi-Wan spotted Anakin leaning against the doorway frame, a casual grin on his face. He hadn't even felt his Force signature. The thought rose again to his mind: 'Just whom are you hiding your presence from?'

"Is it really?" Obi-Wan glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. 9:54. "I guess it is. I'm sorry, I just wasn't keeping track of time, and it really didn't feel like it was that late…" Obi-Wan smiled helplessly. "We probably took up more time with meditation that I thought." Obi-Wan had deliberately avoided looking at the clock; he wanted to stay for as long as possible. This was home, and he did not wish to leave it.

"That's why I'm here to escort you back home. I knew something like this would happen." Anakin smiled teasingly at Obi-Wan. He straightened his lanky form and walked over to where Obi-Wan stood.

This was the first time that the younglings had come into close contact with Anakin; before, the most they had gotten was a glimpse of him walking the hallways with Obi-Wan, maybe catching a phrase or two. Now, their oppressor (one of two) was towering over their sitting forms and talking familiarly with their Master. The younger younglings (the Coruscanti crowd) looked uncomfortable, shifting in their seat as they shifted their gazes every which-way. Skraith and Ki'lya maintained calm, neutral expressions. Carra and Tarren both had barely concealed looks of resentment—mingled with curiosity—painted on their faces. Jarg and Darrien appeared unaffected, although Darrien seemed to be studying Anakin intensely, his brown eyes unreadable.

"Careful, you might give my Padawans the idea that you are omniscient," Obi-Wan joked.

"No, I only know the way you are," Anakin countered.

"Quite a feat within itself."

Anakin shook his head. "Not for me; by now I've known you too long to be surprised by anything you do."

Raising an eyebrow, Obi-Wan drawled, "Oh, really?"

"We should be getting back now, Obi. It's really late, and I told Leia and Luke that they could stay up until you got a chance to say goodnight to them…they really should be getting to bed soon. I just didn't think that it'd take you this long to come home."

"I better hurry then, shouldn't I? I don't want to have to deal with sleep-deprived children tomorrow." They were a handful as it was, and that was when they got enough hours of sleep. If they suddenly became cranky…

"If it comes down to that, we'll just dump them on Threepio." Anakin gave a grin that was both mischievous and playful.

"I see how he got the way he is," Obi-Wan said mournfully, pitying C-3PO. Anakin shook his head, laughing silently with his eyes. Obi-Wan turned to the younglings and said to them, "I must be going now, but don't worry; you can't get rid of me that easily. I will be here tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that day, and so on. I want you to all get in an hour of meditation sometime tomorrow morning. When I arrive we'll start lessons where I left off." They nodded affirmatively to him. "May the Force be with you," he said as he departed, Anakin following like a shadow.

The room fell silent as the door closed, leaving the eleven younglings to themselves and their separate thoughts.

Tarren was the first to move; he got up and announced to the silent room and its occupants, "I'm bushed. I don't know about you guys, but my nice, warm bed sounds like heaven on Coruscant." He casually waved his hand over his shoulder and said, "see ya" as the door closed behind him.

This breaking of the silence caused the others to become restless. Ki'lya, like last night, took it upon herself to escort the younger children to their rooms and tuck them in. Normally this was Obi-Wan's job, but as he was no longer here Ki'lya felt that it was her responsibility. She had the warmth of a mother around her, and the little children felt drawn to her. "Come on, Quinn, Rei and Sei, Huo, Lilitaa. I'll walk you guys to your rooms." Lilitaa tugged on her pants leg, and Ki'lya picked her up and set her on her hip.

As she began to walk out of the room, Carra jumped up and exclaimed, "I'll come with! The more the merrier, after all!" She noticed that Huo was lagging behind a little, so she scoped him up and set him on her back. "There, a piggyback ride is much better, isn't it?"

"Why?" he questioned.

Carra laughed. "Hey, I'm supposed to be the inquisitive one here, kid. That line's practically copyrighted to me."

Jarg, Skraith, and Darrien were left in the room. Darrien had his eyes closed, and his breathing was shallow and even. He appeared to be meditating. Skraith was staring, with avid attention, at a spot on the floor. His four eyes were unblinking. Jarg looked down, but saw nothing interesting. "Yousa okasie?" he asked Skraith, concerned.

"Yesss. Thanksss for the concccern." Skraith continued to stare at the blank spot.

"If yousa say so…" Jarg said, unconvinced. "Well, messa off to bed! May da Force be with yousa!" The Gungan bumbled out of the room and into the hallway. When out of hearing range of the room, he muttered something akin to 'theysa odd ones, theysa are.'

A long stretch of silence wrapped around the room, taunt as durasteel wire. Darrien in his inactive state of meditation; Skraith with his unmoving, unfocused staring. Eventually, Darrien's forehead wrinkled as his lips curved slightly downward in a frown. "Why are you still here?" he questioned bluntly.

"I have nowhere better to be." His tail flicked off to the side, but other than that he remained immobile.

"You are making it difficult for me to focus. Your presence is distracting," Darrien said dryly.

"That I cannot help." His forked, black tongue flicked out for a second before retreating behind pointed teeth. When Darrien got up abruptly, Skraith followed suit and asked, "Where are you going?"

"Away. To be alone. To meditate." Darrien spoke in his short, curt manner. He did not concern himself with the elegant, but ultimately useless, flowery dialect of language. In his mind, anything that couldn't be summed up in a ten-word sentence or less was something not worth saying.

Skraith nodded his head. "Then I ssshall asssissst you."

Darrien turned to look at Skraith, and for the first time since his initiating of the conversation, Darrien's eyes held mirth in them. "Perhaps you misunderstood my choice of words."

"No."

Darrien shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself." He walked slowly to his room, lost in thought, hands hidden in his pockets. Skraith followed after him, always just a half-step behind. The dim corridor lights glinted off his deep-red scales. When Darrien got to his room, he nodded his head in Skraith's direction. "Night." Without waiting for a reply, he closed the door behind him. The _click_ of a lock was heard.

Four green eyes contemplated the ground as Skraith walked, alone, to his own room. His tail swished faintly as if it had a mind of its own, and every time he went over tiled floor his taloned feet sounded out: _tick tick tick_.

* * *

"I just want to talk," Anakin said soothingly, reassuringly to the darkened room.

Once again, Anakin was in Obi-Wan's room, uninvited and unwanted. They had arrived home to be ambushed by Leia and Luke. The twins had crowded around them, wanting attention. They accused Obi-Wan and Anakin of abandoning them because they had been stuck alone with C-3PO all day—'poor C-3PO' was the first thing that came to mind for Obi-Wan. When he tucked them in, they said in smiling, sleepy voices, "goodnight, I love you." For some reason, it tugged at his heart. He kissed them both on the cheek, tucked the edges of their quilts underneath them, and left the room quickly. Jedi were not supposed to form strong attachments, but his affection for the twins was quickly spiraling out of his control. But it would be okay, it would be under control; as long as he willingly let go of those connections when the time came, everything would be fine.

"Well, no one is stopping you," Obi-Wan said wryly. As if he had a choice.

Anakin shifted closer on the bed. Obi-Wan was underneath the covers, for a second night in a row trying to ignore Anakin and go to sleep. "Talking is all I want to do," the tall form assured him. "I respect your wishes. Last night won't happen again—without your permission."

Despite Obi-Wan's resolve to ignore Anakin, he couldn't help but pay more attention after that. So Anakin _did_ remember last night. Anakin's feigned ignorance had almost led Obi-Wan to believe that he had completely forgotten. Which could have been good or bad, depending on which way it was viewed. It could be viewed as bad because he did not want to relive the event and have to reject Anakin again, or it could be thought of as good because it meant that Anakin had completely forgotten the embarrassing situation he'd gotten them into. "I am happy to hear that."

"And I'm happy that you're happy," Anakin responded, and sincere truth was evident in his words—though it floated on the sickly oils of a used car sales-droid's slick responses. "What do you want to converse about?"

This got Obi-Wan attention even more; so Anakin was letting him decide the topic. A large part of his brain was screaming for him to dig around for facts, to find something that Yoda would find useful. But Obi-Wan knew to ignore this impulse. He had to take this slow, or Anakin would become suspicious. If he was going to visit every night, then there was no need to rush and make mistakes. This was like a game of chess, and even throwing away a pawn would be foolishness. He had to think out strategies beforehand, to outthink and box in his opponent until he could safely say 'check mate.' To Anakin he said, "How about something small? I see you've upgraded your arm again…another design of yours?"

Nodding, Anakin proudly held up his mechanical right hand. "Yes, I've improved it greatly from the older model. It was difficult…but this one has a much more complex build than the other one…more complex than even a human hand. I made the joints connecting everything a fraction of their old size, and added more of them. Plus, there's the actual programming itself…my brainwaves travel much faster to it, and the commands are carried out speedily. Now I don't lose that half-second that I kept wasting before."

"More joints than a normal hand? Now, why did you do that?" Obi-Wan asked. He turned in bed to face Anakin's sitting form. He could only see triple-jointed-ness as a hindrance.

"The hand is a flexible instrument. You may not realize this, but when stressed it can bend in ways that it's not originally meant to without breaking. Well, for a small amount of time, anyways." Anakin smiled, and there was something glinting and predatory in it that spoke of firsthand experience. "By adding these extra joints my hand can almost mimic any normal hand movement or gesture. Machines are clumsier than flesh, and for me to obtain the same grace that you have I must work twice as hard. Having a more complex build in my hand that makes minute movements easier does not make my hand more supple than yours, but only on par. I am severely handicapped, and I must—and will—seize any advantage that I can."

Obi-Wan moved his own hand, watching the way his fingers bended effortlessly. "I never thought of it that way."

"Most do not." Anakin smiled again, this time gentler, showing that he did not blame Obi-Wan for it.

"So…if I had the same build as your mechanical hand, but the material was still flesh and bone, then my hand could be considered the most omega hand of the galaxy?" Obi-Wan started to go through the sign language alphabet. He had never realized before the intricacy of the hand, or the way he could effortless, thoughtlessly, control it.

Anakin chuckled at Obi-Wan's odd way of putting his situation. "Yours would certainly be superior then." He mimicked Obi-Wan's movements. His letters were always a half step behind, and some were awkwardly, almost incorrectly, made. "As you can see, I haven't mastered this newer model yet," Anakin admitted. Frustration did not mar his face; patience was in its place. When he truly wanted something, he had the patience of a hunter waiting for his prey, secure in the knowledge that it would eventually come to him—perhaps effortlessly, perhaps after violent struggle.

"I'm not used to the many new joints, and I only recently made this hand… But when I master it, it'll be worth the effort. Anything that takes waiting is worth it." There was complete conviction in Anakin's voice.

"It seems that you got the short end of the deal. I've never been gladder to have my hands attached firmly to my body. In fact, I've never before been happy to have my hands stuck on my arms—not because I didn't want them, but because I didn't think about them at all," he added quickly to the end, lest the wrong idea was given.

"There are ups to it. Like all things, there are pros and cons. It's simply about measuring which weighs more and which options are actually attainable. I cannot change that my right arm and hand will always be fake. I can simply make the best out of a horrible situation."

"Like how?" Obi-Wan leaned in a bit, wondering just what pluses having a prosthetic hand could have; perhaps he _could_ give Yoda some information. Knowing the strengths of the enemy was an advantage not to be overlooked.

Anakin saw how he had caught Obi-Wan's attention. He held up his arm for Obi-Wan to see. The Coruscanti traffic lights flashed through the opened blinds, glinting off the metal arm. Headlights flittered across the reflecting metal: white lights, yellow lights, neon green and fluorescent pink lights. "The metal I made this of can withstand extreme temperatures, both hot and cold. I can crush with my right hand what would normally be thought impossible. See the small plates that are on the top of my hand and arm?"—Obi-Wan looked at the slightly thicker top-plates of the arm that jutted up faintly—"Those can block blaster fire."

Anakin leaned in, as if a child telling a cherished secret, and Obi-Wan instinctively tilted forward also, the listening audience. "They're coated with a thin layer of Cortosis, and can even stop a lightsaber blade."

Obi-Wan shivered; yes, he did have something to tell Yoda.

Anakin mistook the look for wonder.

"That's enough time to catch an opponent off-guard and kill him."

"That's…amazing," Obi-Wan complimented weakly. Wanting to change the path of the discussion, Obi-Wan asked, "But why don't you change the appearance of your arm? I know that some people have prosthetic body parts and you can barely tell the difference, if at all, because of the expert skin-covering laid over the machine."

"Why hide what I have?" Anakin shrugged. "I am not ashamed of this arm. This"—he raised his right arm and flexed his fingers—"is a testimony of my progression. It's a battle scar that I wear proudly."

"That is where you and I differ," Obi-Wan said, his voice heavy with a tiredness that came not from sleep-deprivation. "I would rather have no scars at all."

Anakin paused, and gazed at Obi-Wan in that odd way of his, that sidelong look. It was a look that equally aggravated and confused Obi-Wan. It spoke of both curiosity and indifference. It was an observing look, as if to study and peel away the physical layers of matter to get straight to the source. Bitterly, Obi-Wan bet that he used that same look on both broken machinery and Imperial soldiers.

"You seem tired, Obi," Anakin said in a kind and understanding voice. "I'll let you get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." He paused for a moment at the door before saying softly, "Sweet dreams."

"And to you also," Obi-Wan returned. Then Anakin was gone, and Obi-Wan was alone. He realized something, and this made him chuckle mirthlessly.

Anakin had kept his promised. He had only come to talk.


	10. Revelations

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block: **Accustomed by **Shella**. This is a Star Wars fic that's rated M, involves Anakin/Obi-Wan slash, and isn't completed yet (sob). The characterization is superb. Shella does a really great job with making Anakin and Obi-Wan seem real enough to touch. And then there are the little details she adds about the planets they're on, and that gives everything this realistic, down-to-earth feel (though they aren't even on earth—sorry, that's just my lame attempt at a joke. XD). In chapter five, there are some pretty powerful metaphors, and I really like them. I like her writing style, and what she writes about. 'Accustomed' is a good story.

The last chapter was pretty important, although you may not realize why until a couple more chapters. Just keep what was said in that chapter in mind when you read on. ;) Of course, by chapter nine I knew exactly where I wanted this story to go, so just about everything from here on out will be important one way or another. I didn't write down any outlines, but I had the entire story playing in my head. I guess you could say I had a 'mental' outline. I just didn't want a firm outline written out on paper because I didn't want to prohibit growth in my story. I believe that sometimes you have to let the characters speak to you.

Thanks for reviewing to the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one also! If you find any mistakes, no matter how small or trivial they seem, please tell me.

**Page Amount: **11

**Word Count: **7,936

Written 7-30-05

Listening to: System of the Down "Revenga"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Ten**: Revelations_

He sat up in bed, gasping. What a nightmare—what a memory. His fists tightened around the blankets covering him, twisting the sheets. Sweat created a pale sheen to his skin. He tried to calm his ragged breathing, but could not. He kept gasping, his hands only tightening more and more on the thin layers he clutched.

His mind was too chaotic to meditate. There was no solace in the Force; in his scattered state all he received was silence.

He had to act rational. Starting by calming his breath, he gained some control of what he was thinking. He ran a hand through his brown hair and sighed. That damn dream. He wished it would go away—get out of his mind. He didn't want to think of it. But he remembered with only too much clarity.

Forcing his hands to loosen their hold, he settled back down into his bed. The covers were uncomfortable due to his excessive sweating, and they clung to him like a second skin. Uncomfortable. He shifted a bit and closed his eyes.

Sleep took its time coming.

It was because of that damn dream.

* * *

Obi-Wan woke up the next morning, a slightly disconcerting feeling running through his mind. He couldn't remember exactly what, but something last night had caused a disturbance in the Force. He didn't know if he should just dismiss it as a nightmare that he'd had and simply couldn't remember, or what. He _did_ remember being jolted awake by that unsettling feeling—but nothing more. He shrugged. He must have fallen back asleep and forgotten; the memory would come back when it was needed, as was the way of the Force.

He got out of bed and stretched a bit to limber his limbs. He went into the bathroom to use the refresher. Afterwards, as he was toweling his hair dry, he went to the dresser containing his clothes and opened it, planning on adorning himself with his usual drab, but well loved, Jedi wear. He frowned, shifted through the clothes he found and then methodically went through the other drawers in the dresser.

Opening the closet, he rummaged through the hanging clothes before closing the door once again. He looked on the floor, where he had thrown his discarded outfit from yesterday.

All his Jedi outfits were missing.

'And so the disappearances begin,' thought Obi-Wan morbidly as he pulled from the drawer a green tunic made of shimmersilk. He also extracted beige pants made of a soft cottony material that almost felt like thin, soft leather. He pulled them on, and they fit exactly to his form and hung there comfortably. Anakin was showing his resourcefulness at gaining private information—Obi-Wan couldn't remember the last time someone had had to record his measurements, but he knew it had been a long time ago. Probably when he had first been fitted for his Jedi Master's outfit.

He stared at himself in the mirror and sighed. Even though the design stitched into the tunic was subtle, being an only slighter darker green than the rest of the tunic, and the pants were made of an only slightly more expensive material than he was used to, he felt extremely uncomfortable in the outfit. It was too gaudy to him—it did not suit him. It spoke of luxury he did not have, or want.

But there was nothing he could do about it, so it was best to ignore the change. However, there was something else he had to make sure of now… He started looking through his other personal possessions.

Just as he thought—his lock-pick set, jamming device, and data-stick were gone. He searched a secret compartment on the back of his suitcase, and found that his decoder was still there. Obi-Wan smiled, relieved at that stroke of good luck; he kept all of his special items in separate, hidden compartments in his suitcase just for this purpose. If one item was discovered, it didn't mean that all were. Since Anakin hadn't been looking for the decoder (Obi-Wan hadn't used it that night, so Anakin wasn't aware of its existence) he must have overlooked the pouch. He hadn't used the data-stick or jamming device that night either, but Anakin must have found those secret openings while searching for the lock-pick—which he _had_ known about.

Well, too much luck could be bad in the end. Too much luck could turn out to be not luck at all, but a carefully concealed trap. Obi-Wan considered himself fortunate to have kept the decoder's identity a secret. Hopefully, Anakin would think that he had ridded himself of all the items that disagreed with him and would not go searching through Obi-Wan's possessions again. The decoder could come in handy…but retrospectively, if all the locks were physical like the forty-ninth floor, then maybe he wouldn't get much use out of the device anyways.

Obi-Wan replaced the decoder and zipped up his suitcase. He placed his bag in exactly the same position as before. It was as if it had never been moved.

Just like yesterday, when Obi-Wan walked towards the kitchen he was met with the delicious aromas of cooking breakfast. He reached out and found that the void was still there. Anakin greeted him cheerfully when he came in and fixed him a cup of tea, adding the honey himself. Obi-Wan tasted it, and found that it was just the way he liked it.

Breakfast nearly paralleled what happened yesterday. Anakin was cheerful and chatted amiably, Leia and Luke filled the room with their shouts of joy, and the entire scene was oddly, disconcertingly domestic. However, though Obi-Wan couldn't put his finger on it, something was different…some hidden element in the atmosphere had changed. Unlike yesterday, he did not feel watched or uneasy while eating. Just as he couldn't understand why he had felt apprehensive yesterday, he couldn't grasp why he felt comfortable today. It was vexing; an itch he couldn't locate so couldn't scratch.

Sipping his tea, he cradled the mug in his hands and contemplated the changed atmosphere. What was different? He snuck a glance at a laughing Anakin, and wondered, 'Does this have something to do with you?'

Certainly, last night must have been a much more pleasant conversation than the one before—for both of them.

Obi-Wan didn't like all these invisible factors that kept adding up. He'd much rather deal with something logical, something he could see and understand. He dealt in solid facts, things on which he could read up a holofile and instantly become more knowledgeable, or observe and gain a solid idea on what he was dealing with. These were things that didn't _change_ on inexplicable whimsies.

He excused himself from the table, saying that he was going to check up on Kye. Anakin nodded, his eyes following Obi-Wan's departure. But he did nothing else and said nothing to stop him.

Obi-Wan made his way up to the greenhouse, a frown on his face. This was all too confusing. "Why I say, I do believe it's Master Obi-Wan!" a droid voice called out to him once he was in the greenhouse. "How do you do, sir? Well, one would hope."

"Hello, Threepio," Obi-Wan returned the greeting.

"Is there any way I can assist you, Master Obi-Wan? It would be my pleasure." C-3PO set down the water mister he had been holding and started to totter over to Obi-Wan. "If you wish, I can give you a detailed account for every plant in here—I am well versed in herbology, if I do say so myself. I am familiar with the plant culture of six-point-four million star systems, have live footage of growing plants from five-point-two billion planets, and audio sound of six different kinds of carnivorous plants eating species natural to their environment."

"No, no, that's quite fine, Threepio," Obi-Wan said hurriedly. "Perhaps another time—"

"I would be delighted!" C-3PO exclaimed.

"—although I am a very, very busy man…" Obi-Wan cut in. "Very busy. So while I'm sure it'd be lovely to hear a thorough synopsis on every plant in here, I'm afraid I won't be able to test your memory skills. I am simply looking for Kye—my veractyl."

"Oh. Yes." If it was possible for a droid's voice to hold disappointment, C-3PO's did at that moment. And if that was possible, then it was also possible for it to sniff disdainfully. "That abysmal beast. She is quite a nuisance, I don't see why you can't train her—" At that moment C-3PO's lecture was stopped by a high-pitched, musical trill. Kye launched herself at C-3PO and started rubbing her head against his golden chest plates. "See! She's at it again! Stop, stop, you wretched creature! I command it of you!"

C-3PO flailed his arms at Kye, but to no avail. She merely thought he was playing with her, and nipped gently at the outstretched hand. "Ah! This is outrageous! You've slobbered on my newly buffed plates, you impudent, horrid little…" C-3PO tried to tug his hand away.

Obi-Wan laughed, watching the comical scene playing out before his eyes. It was better than virtual reality television.

Flustered by Obi-Wan laughing at what he considered a very grave matter, C-3PO bowed low to Obi-Wan and said, "I leave this…_thing_…to you and bid you good da—ahh!" When he tried to straighten up from his bow, Kye bumped her head against his shiny metal bum, causing C-3PO to clatter to the ground in a shiny, gold heap.

"And I bid _you_ a good day, Threepio. You look like you could use it more than me," Obi-Wan commented lightly. "Come on, Kye, leave the funny little golden man alone." Kye chirped happily and launched herself on him, licking his cheek. Obi-Wan led her away from C-3PO, pitying the droid enough to give him some privacy to regain his lost dignity and balance.

C-3PO watched them go and said, " 'Funny little golden man' indeed. Hmph. I see nothing funny about this situation, my height is at a standard five-foot three-inches—hardly '_small_,' and because I lack the need of organs for my continuing functioning I cannot be a mammal, much less a homosapien. Seventy-five percent of his accusations are factually incorrect." The lightly misted air, his only listening companion, said nothing to disagree with him.

"I take it that you like how shiny he is?" Obi-Wan patted Kye on the nose. She closed her eyes and chirruped. Obi-Wan smiled. "It _is_ fun to bug him, isn't it? To the point that you almost can't help yourself…"

They came to a large tree with enormous deep red, heart-shaped leaves. Kye sprawled on the grass underneath it and Obi-Wan leaned up against her side. She rested her head on the ground at an angle so that one large eye could peer up at him. She garbled something that seemed a worried question.

Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm just a bit confused, is all. All this is so…new. I'm at a loss of how to act, and react. Part of me feels like I'm at a dead-end, and I can't go back now. But I can't exactly go forward. I can't waltz through locked doors, you know." Kye tweeted agreement. Realization suddenly dawned on Obi-Wan's face. "…But there _is_ something that I can check up on," he mumbled, "If you find the path blocked, go back to the source. To find out who tried to assassinate Leia all I have to do is—" Obi-Wan patted Kye appreciatively on the neck. "I'm going to the zoo after work today. Thanks for all the help, Kye, you really put it into better perspective for me."

As Obi-Wan strolled away, Kye chirruped happily, not knowing why her master's mood was suddenly so cheerful but glad for it nonetheless. She went to go find the shiny, moving metal man. He wasn't far away, and she proceeded to pounce on him. She watched with rapt attention as the light dance on his shiny body as he started doing his erratic and jerky dance of flailing arms, shrilling yells, and falling over. He was an odd creature, but it was a fun game nevertheless.

Obi-Wan walked to the kitchen, trying not to rush. It wasn't as if he could set his plan into motion instantly, but he was anxious to start his day now that he knew what had to be done. Having a direction to go gave him energy.

He found his target in the kitchen putting dishes into the dishwasher. Anakin grinned and said in greeting, "Have you come to help with the detestable and most evil chore of washing dishes?"

"Sorry, that seems more like your genre," Obi-Wan said playfully. "I have come here for the sole purpose of adding to your list of chores."

"Need another lift to the Temple?" Anakin asked as he rinsed out a glass.

"You read my mind."

Anakin sighed dramatically as he placed the glass into the dishwasher. "Is there no rest for the weary?"

"You can rest while you drive me to the Temple."

"I thought you of all people wouldn't want me sleeping at the wheel." Anakin had a mischievous light in his eyes. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Anakin shook his head, saying, "Fine, fine, I'll play the role of chauffer. I'll just finish these later…or make Threepio do them." He grinned evilly as he left the dishes half finished. They went out of the house and entered the hangar bay.

As he started the pulsar engine he commented lightly, "You know, it's only because it was _you_ who asked that I left those lovely, dirty dishes alone." He gently coaxed the craft out into the midmorning Coruscanti traffic.

Obi-Wan snorted. "I bet you would have left those dishes alone if a wampa had invited you over to his cave for a bit of supper."

Barking a laugh, Anakin said, "I think the traffic just got rougher because of that."

After much swerving, speeding, and spontaneous prayer, Obi-Wan was able to set his feet down on beloved land. As Anakin closed Obi-Wan's passenger door, he paused and said, "Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention: the green goes beautifully with your eyes. Brings out the color." He smiled and then the hovercraft was gone.

Obi-Wan stared after him, confused. Then he looked down and remembered the green tunic. He sighed; he was purposely trying to _forget_ about it, and Anakin had intentionally brought it up. 'Zounds, he knows exactly what not to say, doesn't he? And then goes and says it.'

Obi-Wan wandered around the Temple, seeing if he could just happen to run into someone. The first person he met was Carra. The Bonthan pounced on him like a cat on a mouse. And if Obi-Wan had been a toy mouse, she surely would have gutted him, tearing out the stuffing in his stitched belly in her quest to see What Was Stuffed Inside. If only it was that easy to pick the mind of a living being.

"Master Obi-Wan, it's so good to see you! Where have you been? What were you doing? Why did Darth Vader come here yesterday to give you a ride home? Who are Leia and Luke?" She paused, noticing his new clothes for the first time. "What's with the outfit?"

"I'm glad to see you too, Carra. As for the outfit, I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh." Understanding floated into her golden eyes. "It's the new Jedi dress code, isn't it? When do I get one?"

"No, it's my own personal clothes."

Carra wrinkled her nose. The action made her cheeks scrunch up also, and the whisker marks on her face grew wavy. "I didn't know that you had any clothes other than your Jedi pair."

"I didn't, until today."

"How did you get them?"

"A gift."

Carra's eyes gleamed like gold coins, but she didn't ask about the remark. This made Obi-Wan particularly wary; Carra normally saved the important questions to find out on her own. Her bombardment of little questions was just a strategy to confuse the opponent into slipping and saying something important. Like what had just happened now. She was very astute, and could gain the most information from the least amount of words.

"You don't seem very comfortable in them," Carra commented, cocking her head to the side and looking at Obi-Wan's stiff stance. "For what reason would you wear something you didn't like?"

Obi-Wan remained silent.

Carra laughed merrily, saying nothing more about the subject. "I've finally got you," she proclaimed. "I've made the great Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi fall silent! Now that I've achieved my goal in life…what can I do for you, Master Obi-Wan?"

"Finally, assistance instead of interrogation." He spoke the truth through gritted teeth and grinning lips. "I was wondering if you could round up everyone so we can meet in the same meditation room as yesterday."

"I am duty bound to serve you." She gave him a graceful, theatrical bow coupled with a silly grin before scampering off.

" 'Duty bound'…?" Obi-Wan mused out-loud as he walked to the meditation room at a much slower pace than Carra. "And here I thought they all followed me around because they liked me."

When he got to the room, Tarren, Darrien, and Skraith were already there. Skraith nodded his head respectfully while Darrien kept his mediation stance, barely batting an eyelash in his direction. Tarren, however, didn't take his arrival with such calm. He sprung up from his pad by Darrien and exclaimed, "What was yesterday all about?"

"Sssilenccce, fool," Skraith snapped. "He will tell usss if he wissshesss to do ssso. Your idiotic blathering helpsss none."

"Skraith, don't be so harsh. I must admit that I, too, am mystified. Tarren is younger than us, and it's understandable that he wasn't able to keep his questions to himself." Darrien opened his eyes and glanced at Obi-Wan. "But I am just as curious as him, and I do not regret that he spoke what is on all our minds."

Obi-Wan was stunned by how much Darrien had said all at once. He didn't think Darrien had ever let a comment go on for so long before. This only proved to him the enormity of the curiosity and confusion his Padawans were feeling, if even levelheaded Darrien was acting out of character.

Giving it serious thought, Obi-Wan finally found a way of wording his situation without giving much away. He just wanted to give his Padawans enough to assure them that he had a good reason for everything, without having to tell the specifics. "I am keeping an eye on the Emperor's secondhand man."

Tarren scowled in frustration. "What does that mean? Why couldn't someone else do that? It's not fair that it has to be you…you have other duties to deal with as it is. Someone else with nothing to do ought to have done this, and done it long before now."

"Circumstances have made me the most capable for this job," Obi-Wan said carefully.

Calming down, Tarren closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I still don't see why someone else couldn't have done this anyways," he said firmly. "I don't like this business."

"Have you forgotten all you have heard?" Skraith hissed, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth in exasperation. "Ussse your mind, and remember what Lord Vader sssaid yesssterday. They have known each other for a _long time_. A connection like that cannot be forged easssily. Who elssse could do thisss job? I ressspect and underssstand Massster Kenobi's decccisssion, and you would be wissse to do the sssame."

"Skraith is correct, Tarren; you must trust me," Obi-Wan said quietly. "I have trusted you, and I wish for you to return that faith."

"I haven't forgotten what you've said, Master Obi-Wan. I'm just frustrated, is all. We have let the enemy into our Temple, and we have found out that he is your friend. What is there not to be confused about?" Tarren shook his head in shock. "I always thought that evil would be more…cold. But he seemed friendly, almost…_likeable_. How can that be? I know he's a murderer, yet he smiles and jokes like any one of us. He shouldn't. He's _Darth Vader_."

"Evil is often not what we expect."

"Well, I won't let you down." Tarren steeled himself, looking grim and proud. He was a soldier in a boy's body. "I'll protect the Temple."

Skraith's head swung from Obi-Wan to Tarren, the movement oddly like a lazy cobra swaying to a piper's tune, his reptilian features enforcing the impression. He attentively followed their private conversation, and when their words died out his gaze shifted to his silent, meditating friend.

Carra stormed into the room, herding the other younglings in. Jarg and Ki'lya brought up the rear, making sure none of the others straggled behind. They all had questions and exclamations similar to Tarren's. Obi-Wan found himself combating accusations and suspicions, soothing worries and fears, and altogether becoming very mentally tired.

They all wanted to know: Why did the evil, which we have strived to fight, come here? What did he mean by all his comments? Has he known you for long? How does he know you? Why didn't you tell us this before? Didn't you think you could trust us? _What will happen to us now_?

He was evasive with all his answers, except for the last question. "I will _never_ let harm come to you," Obi-Wan promised. "This will all be over soon enough, and then things will return to normal. I don't like this any more than you do, but this is something I must do. As a Jedi it is my duty, and duty is not to be questioned." He gave them all a stern look, and all other questions they might have asked were stemmed immediately. They may have been frightened children, but they were also younglings training to be Jedi, and they knew how to follow commands.

"Now, let us meditate." They meditated for an hour. This time, unlike yesterday, Obi-Wan easily slipped into the current of the Force. He had a plan. This gave him infinite comfort and made the Force hum pleasantly around him. Yet however satisfying mingling with the Force was, exactly one hour later Obi-Wan withdrew his spirit from the current and planted it firmly in his body.

Getting up, he announced to the younglings, "I'm sorry that we cannot have a long lesson like yesterday, but I have somewhere important to be." He saw the disappointed and curious faces around him, and said firmly, "This is business, and I expect it to be treated as such." All the opening mouths snapped shut.

Obi-Wan bowed to all his students and said, "May the Force be with…and don't forget to meditate."

"That's just like Master Obi-Wan," Carra said after their master had left, shaking her head. "Always a hidden meaning in his words."

Ki'lya laughed. It was a quiet, unobtrusive and pleasant sound, altogether like spring rain drizzling on lily pads. "I don't think that meaning was hidden very well, then. It sounded more like a command to me."

"Well, that won't do, will it? How can he expect us to follow his instructions if he doesn't _suggest_ them to us? I think his Persuasion skills are getting rusty." Carra grinned. "Perhaps someone should point that out to him, before he really gets himself in trouble." Carra saw Tarren leave the room from the corner of her eyes. "Oh, hey—gotta be somewhere. See ya, Ki'lya!" She rushed out of the room before Ki'lya could even ask what she had to do and if she could come along.

Ki'lya merely smiled at her friend's strange antics. Well, she'd use this time to meditate, as Darrien was. No matter how entertaining a pastime it was to make fun of Master Obi-Wan, she truly admired him (and knew that Carra did also, although it was buried deep underneath her jesting insults and jokes). So while she joked about some of his funnier habits, she always followed the orders he gave. Right now, that required meditation. That was okay; she was good at it, and enjoyed the deep connection to life she felt whenever she let her mind drift in the ambience of the Force.

She was so deep in her meditation that she didn't even register it when Darrien got up quietly and left.

Darrien walked through a nearby hallway and witnessed Carra talking urgently to Tarren. Face furious, Tarren snapped something in a harsh voice to her. She said something else softly, too quietly for Darrien to hear it, and Tarren's face paled before turning a deep crimson with anger. He brandished a finger at her, and from the snarl on his mouth he was obviously threatening her. He stormed off, shoulders tense and back straight.

Carra was stock-still, her back to him. Darrien hesitantly walked toward her and asked, "Carra…? Are you okay? He seemed a little mad…did he hurt your feelings?"

She turned to face him, a triumphant grin expanding on her face like a balloon being blown up. "He's hiding something."

Darrien nodded. "I suspected as much. Especially after what Master Obi-Wan said."

Her ears twitching with interest, she said eagerly, "Let's go to the lake room. We can talk there and not be overheard."

"Probably for the best." He bowed and flourished an arm in front of him. A sign for Carra to lead the way, which she gladly did. Her light footsteps hardly made a sound. There was an extra spring there, one she always got when delving into a secret. Darrien allowed himself to smile leisurely when her back was to him. Her innocent curiosity always amused him.

The lake room was the recreational room, although occasionally it was used for mock-duels to help the younglings get used to fighting on different terrains. It was a huge room in the center of the Temple, an indoor forest with grass, trees, flowers, and large stones perfect for sitting on. Their worn look was proof of that. In the center of the room was an enormous lake. Towering rocks created a cliff that hugged one side of the lake, and from the cliff crystalline water spewed down in a powerful waterfall. The roar of water crashing on rock and more water made quiet conversations silent to eavesdroppers.

Carra sat on the edge of the lake right by the waterfall. She dipped her feet into the water, waiting for Darrien to join her. He sat cross-legged off to her side. She turned to him and asked enthusiastically, "What did Master Obi-Wan say?"

"It's more of what _wasn't_ said." Darrien was silent for a moment, contemplating the cascading water. A serene, musing look laid on his face as he watched the droplets catch the artificial sunlight and bend it into a small rainbow.

"What gives you that idea?" Carra asked, trying to hold back the frustration that threatened to leak over. Darrien rubbed her the wrong way from time to time…it was just that he talked so _little_. For Carra, that was an undesirable trait.

" 'I haven't forgotten what you've said.' "

"What? What did I say?"

"That's what Tarren said to Obi-Wan."

Realization colored her yellow eyes, making them dance a molten gold. "That means they must have had a previous conversation—one on the same topic. I _knew_ that Tarren had talked to Obi-Wan before he left the Temple! The way he had said with such confidence that Obi-Wan would come back, and the way he kept patting his pocket…" Her eyes flickered with speculation after speculation as they whizzed by in her head.

"Why would he do that?" Darrien asked, mildly interested. His eyes flickered off the waterfall for a nanosecond, taking in her expression, before jumping back to the falling water. The rest of his face did not move.

Carra shook her head. "Sorry, I forgot that you don't know. Just caught up in the moment, you know. A good mystery will do that." She grinned. "He kept patting his pocket because something was in it—a ring of keys. I caught a glimpse of them when they fell out of his pocket."

Darrien did not disagree with her lie.

Carra's eyes twinkled; at least this boy was sharp. They both knew that the keys hadn't 'fallen' out. Valuables like that never did. She had snuck into Tarren's room at night and rummaged through his clothes until she had found the keys. "There were six of them, all nearly alike. Same size, same color, same overall appearance. Ordinary looking. The only difference was that the ridges and indents in each key varied slightly. I suspect that Obi-Wan gave those keys to Tarren before he left. They must be important—and involve the Temple if Obi-Wan was unwilling to let them leave this place, yet had to make sure that someone knew of their existence."

"Intriguing. This could be your greatest mystery yet." A small smiled played at his lips. "Any clue as to what they might unlock?"

"None," she said with regret. "That's what I was trying to ask Tarren about, but you saw how he reacted when I even mentioned the keys. He went from a sheet to a tomato in three seconds flat. And then stomped off." She sighed regretfully.

"Giving up?"

"Never!" she swore, shocked that Darrien would even ask something like that. "I'm going to find out what those keys unlock if it's the last thing I do!"

Darrien studied her. "It'll be hard."

Carra gave him a toothy grin. "All the better."

Darrien nodded. "I wish you the best of luck." He got up and brushed off specks of dirt from his pants. "If you'll excuse me…" he said politely as he walked away.

Carra hummed happily, swinging her feet back and forth in the water. She now had some leads: she had already known about the keys, but she had been stumped there. With Darrien's revelations, she now knew that Master Obi-Wan had told Tarren something important before leaving, and that the keys were connected to his departure. She had almost given up on solving the mystery of the keys (there were simply too many devices and locks that used keys to check them all one by one), but now she knew she would follow this one to the end. This was indeed her greatest mystery yet.

She didn't know when he had joined her, but she became aware of Skraith's sitting presence when he asked, "What were you talking about?"

She was still caught up in all her fantasies and ideas, a dreamy look on her face as she flicked up water with the tips of her bare feet. Stopping her tuneless humming, she said absentmindedly, "Tarren. Keys."

He nodded his head in her direction and left her to her grand schemes.

* * *

"Can you at least let me access the camera feed? I know that you keep recordings of it."

"I'm sorry, Mister…" She paused.

"Kenobi."

"Kenobi. All camera footage is private property of the National Coruscant Zoo, and visitors are not allowed access to it."

"I am not a visitor, I am a Jedi investigating a case. A reek was let out of its cage two days ago, and someone I knew was involved in that accident. I was asked to examine the incident and see what I could gather. For that, I need to see the holograms."

"Mister Kenobi, unless I see a permit from the Imperial police giving you permission to examine our personal records, and our camera footage _is_ considered personal, I cannot allow you access," she snapped out, frustrated with him as he filed down her last nerve. It was no surprise; they had been arguing back and forth for over a half-hour by now.

Just as Obi-Wan was drawing breath for another round he spotted a familiar figure heading their way. "You there!" he yelled out, pointing at the zookeeper from the other day. She looked up, startled and eyes wide. "Yes, you!" He stomped over to her.

As he got closer, she gave a cry of recognition and said, "You're the one involved in the reek accident! I searched through all the holograms, but I didn't find anything interesting… I would have sent a message telling you so, but your friend seemed so cynical that I was afraid he would scoff at me and say he knew it all along…"

Obi-Wan had more important things to do than hear about her insecurity issues. 'Whoa, stop right there, Obi-Wan,' he thought to himself. That was no way for a Jedi to think. The last half-hour had worn away more of his patience than he had realized. "I would like to see the footage for myself, if that is all right by you." He tried to smile, and almost managed one.

The zookeeper said, "Yes, that's fine."

The lady behind the desk frowned severely. "You can't do that. If the hologram doesn't concern him directly, he has no right to look at it. It doesn't matter if a friend of his was involved; if he's that worried about this he should have came here himself."

The zookeeper stared at her, confused. "But he _was_ involved—he was there when the reek attack his friend's daughter. In fact, he was almost directly in-between the reek and the little girl. Can't get much closer than that." She gave him a tired smile and walked away from the thin-lipped, but non-arguing secretary. "Follow me to the records room, please."

When they got there, she accessed the computer. Numbers and words raced over the screen as she typed in a series of commands and codes. Finally, an image was displayed on the holoprojector. "I must admit, what we have is rather…odd. You have to see it for yourself to understand."

The camera filmed a small section of the reek's cage, mostly focusing on the power generator and small control system that fed electricity to the cage's shields. The zookeeper fast-forwarded for a bit, explaining, "It's like this for most of the time, but then this happens…" She stopped it and watched the film with great scrutiny. Everything remained the same, but for a fraction of a second the image fritzed before returning to normal, nothing out of place. This went on for a while, before suddenly the image fritzed again. This time the hologram showed the wrecked shield generator as he remembered seeing it. A holographic Anakin was crouched by it, saying something. "See?" the zookeeper said with frustration. "I don't know what went wrong with the camera."

"Rewind to right before the image fragments for the second time." The zookeeper complied. Obi-Wan nodded his head, his notion confirmed. "From when it fuzzed the first time to the second time is all a prerecording that was recorded over the real footage. See how the shadows don't match up before and after the fritz?"

"Really?" the zookeeper asked, rewinding it again to notice the change for herself. "Yeah, you're right."

_"—scorch marks seemed to be made by a blaster…DC-15, by the looks of it. The panel was destroyed—"_

Obi-Wan stared at the hologram. While he hadn't found the assassin's identity by watching the hologram, Anakin's holographic image had just given him another lead. "Thank you for all your help. I must be leaving now."

The zookeeper nodded tiredly and said, "Sure thing. Find me if you need help again."

Obi-Wan hurried out of the record room, past the glaring secretary, and out onto the Coruscant streets. He flagged down a taxi and said, "Coco Town, Dex's Diner."

"Got it," the taxi driver said through closed lips and a cigarette, speeding through traffic. He was almost as bad a driver as Anakin. The faux-leather interior smelled like cigarette smoke, and Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose distastefully. At least Anakin didn't smell as bad.

'Well, he made good time if nothing else,' Obi-Wan tried to think positively as he paid and thanked the driver. He entered the small diner and almost instantly was hailed heartily by Dexter Jettster. The giant lumbered over to him.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi! Your last visit was so long ago that I nearly thought you were dead. Or worse, forgot about me!" The burly Besalisk chuckled at his own joke. He squashed Obi-Wan in a four-armed bear hug, which Obi-Wan valiantly returned the best he could. Clapping Obi-Wan on the back, Dexter asked, "Now, what can I do for you?"

They slid into a table and Dexter got his waitress, Hermoine Bagwa, to get them drinks: coffee for Dexter and tea for Obi-Wan. "What makes you think that I came for business? What if I just sorely missed your rambunctious company?"

Dexter chuckle. "I know your kind, Obi-Wan. You Jedi never stop by for personal reasons. There's always a mission behind it. So let's get down to it…what's the reason this time?" He leaned in closer. "I know you Jedi try not to keep friends, but I consider myself yours. I'll help you however I can."

"I consider you a friend also, Dex. A useful one, at that." Obi-Wan smiled as he sipped his tea.

Laughing loudly, Dexter said between chortles, "The only kind you keep, I bet."

"Maybe." Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled to show he was joking. "And you are right: I have a reason for being here."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere." The Besalisk rubbed two beefy hands together in anticipation.

"I need to know everything that you know about a type of blaster…a DC-15."

"Why, there isn't a more common blaster out there!" Dexter exclaimed. "Are your Jedi Archives so outdated that they don't even have that in them?" Dexter shook his head in astonishment.

"I'm glad one of us finds this funny… I can't trust the Archives anymore. Electronic data is too easily manipulated or erased, and I want all the facts I receive to be authentic. Plus, a holofile search can easily be traced, and I don't want anyone to know of my investigations."

"All that cloak-and-dagger stuff, eh?" Baxter snorted and scratched his bristly moustache. "But I've noticed the tighter information control myself. Some of my friends are having difficult times because of it."

"Still keep a few old acquaintances from your wilder days on Ord Sigatt?" Obi-Wan questioned, reminiscing a bit of the first time he had met Dexter.

"Can't get rid of old friends that easily. Besides, I like to keep a couple useful acquaintances myself." He smiled, showing yellowing teeth. "Back to your DC-15 blaster rifle. It's the standard weapon for all Imperial soldiers—meaning the clone troopers. The blaster fires blue plasma bolts…very tricky to aim but deadly. Can make quite a mess at close range, if you get my meaning."

"Are they limited to the clone troopers?"

Dexter shook his head. "No, but you'd be hard pressed to find someone else who does have it. Even though it's not written down, it's practically a law that only clone troopers have those weapons. It's because 'DC-15' instantly makes people think 'clone trooper,' then 'Galactic Empire.' People who disagree with the Empire don't want to be associated with it."

"I can sympathize."

"So does half the galaxy! Doesn't mean they'll do anything." Dexter shrugged. "Do what you can, but don't stick your neck out too far, you hear?" Dexter used his top right hand to waggle a finger at him, his lower two arms crossing over his chest and his top left one flat on the table. "Or else I'll personally make sure that you don't have enough neck to stick out next time. That is, if the guillotine doesn't get you first." He chuckled and slouched back into his seat, relaxed once more.

Obi-Wan smiled, amused by Dexter's strange ways of showing concern. "That was oddly comforting and forbidding at the same time."

Dexter laughed. "That's what I like about you, Obi-Wan. You got style; I knew that since the first time I met you."

"I'd love to stay and chat about old times, but I must be off. Can't have too many unexplained disappearances on my record, now can I?" Obi-Wan got up from his seat. "I'm sure you know how that goes, Dex."

Once again, Dexter drew him into a hug, clapping him on the shoulder. "I know, and that's why you better be careful," Dexter said gruffly, "Don't go and try to take on all the clone troopers at once. Save some for the rest of the galaxy. You Jedi aren't as invincible as you may think."

"I try not to—denying a fact allows it to become your downfall. See you later, old friend."

Obtaining a ride back to Skywalker Skyscraper (Obi-Wan's personal nickname for the mammoth building) was as easy as getting one to Dex's Diner. When he stepped out of the air taxi he was surprised to see Anakin pacing on the landing platform. The darkly clad figure hurried quickly over to the air taxi. "Thanks for the service," Anakin told the driver as he paid the fee himself. The driver looked stunned; it wasn't every day that a Sith Lord thanked him for driving someone else and then paid him. Once the credits finished exchanging hands, the air taxi was flying through traffic away from the building at a neck-breaking speed. Obi-Wan didn't blame the driver for wanting to distance himself.

"Why the agitation?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin stared at him incredulously. "Why would I _not_ be agitated? I felt your force signature leave the Temple and I couldn't figure out where you went—just…someplace. I know the districts, but I have no clue why you went to those two. I was worried; you might have been kidnapped, or off on some martyr mission, or gotten into any other number of dangerous situations!"

Obi-Wan felt embarrassed about having worried Anakin. And uneasy that Anakin had honed his skills enough to be able to mentally track his movements to the point of knowing which districts he had visited. He bet that Anakin had been in the Galactic Senate building, which was close to the Temple, and that was why he had known Obi-Wan's exact location before he had started moving around. Sensing the exact position of a life force signature was easier at closer range. As he had moved away, the 'tracking signal' had gotten more obscure and generalized.

If Anakin had been nearer to the districts he had visited, he probably would have been able to sense the exact building that Obi-Wan had gone into. With some alarm, Obi-Wan realized for the first time just how much danger he had put his friend Dex into.

"I'm…sorry. I didn't realize that you would be worried if I went elsewhere." Obi-Wan bereted himself for not thinking of that; he should have known that Anakin would keep tabs on him personally. He had forgotten that the spiritual powers that worked for him also worked for Anakin: the Force did not choose sides.

"Where did you go?" Anakin interrogated. Now that Obi-Wan was right in front of him and clearly unharmed, other thoughts were creeping to the fore of his mind.

"To a café to have a cup of tea."

"Why didn't you just get one at the Temple?"

"The younglings were driving me mad with all their questions. You created quite a disturbance with your presence yesterday. I had to evade everything except physical blows from them. With eleven of them, they are an awe-inspiring force to be reckoned with. Certainly a hassle at the least."

Anakin couldn't help the small smile that the comment created. "I apologize for the unplanned visit. I probably should have thought through a better way to introduce myself than by just appearing suddenly. Maybe we should have given them a couple days warning first, so they could have prepared themselves and gotten used to the idea of me being around more often."

"I'm not sure I'm getting at what you're saying."

"I want to become more active with what goes on in the Temple," Anakin explained. "You spend so much time there…" Anakin drifted off with a sigh. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he rubbed his face wearily.

"Why should it matter how much time I spend at the Temple?" Obi-Wan asked, confused and a little suspicious.

Anakin's eyes lost their distant look as he focused directly on Obi-Wan. He said mournfully and plaintively, "I miss you."

" 'Miss me'?" It was Obi-Wan's turn to be incredulous. "Anakin, I've only been in your household since yesterday…you can't possibly have gotten so used to my presence around the house that you already 'miss me' when I'm not there."

"I've been missing you every time you went away since I was nine," was the simple response.

Anakin had first met Obi-Wan when he was nine.

"Well…yes…I suppose…if you wanted to…you could spend more time at the Temple." Obi-Wan was mortified, although he tried to speak in a casual tone. He didn't think he was very convincing. It was just…Anakin a constant figure at the Jedi Temple? The younglings had been thrown into disorder with one small appearance of him. How well would they react to continual encounters with him?

What worried him most was that they might actually get _used_ to Anakin.

"I know this must be a shock for you, but this can actually work to your benefit." Anakin smiled at him and herded him gently toward the building without actually touching him. "With two of us, we can give each Padawan Learner more attention than if there was only you."

"Well, when you put it that way…" Obi-Wan mumbled, allowing himself to be steered.

"You'll see," Anakin promised optimistically, "this will work out nicely."

Obi-Wan excused himself from Anakin when they got to the house portion of Skywalker Skyscraper. He went up to the greenhouse and called softly for Kye. She came racing towards him, chirruping excitedly. Obi-Wan heard a distant voice—C-3PO's—say, "Finally, the dreaded beast is gone!"

"Causing trouble again?" Kye tilted her head to the side and chirped lightly, the embodiment of innocence. Obi-Wan chuckled and said, "Don't worry, Threepio's that uptight even when you don't cause problems for him."

The smile slipped from his face. "Kye…things have just become more complicated. I solved one problem, only to find that I'm now facing a much larger one. I just really wish I could speak to…someone."

Obi-Wan shivered; he had been about to say 'Yoda.' While he knew Kye wouldn't repeat the name (in fact, couldn't), any number of cameras could be watching. He had to be careful of what he said because he could never be sure of just who was listening.

He leaned his head against Kye's and closed his eyes. He felt very faint waves of reassurance coming from Kye and smiled gratefully. The veractyl was using their mental bond to try to comfort him. He stayed like that for a long time, letting Kye temporarily wash away all his worries with her soft telepathic waves and low, musical crooning.

At night, Anakin once again came to his room. Obi-Wan didn't try to stop him, or even to ignore him. By this time, he knew that either action would only aggravate and provoke Anakin. Obi-Wan knew the strength of Anakin's will: when he wanted something, he could not be discouraged.

They merely talked, Obi-Wan bone-weary and Anakin strangely rejuvenated.


	11. Far From Here

**Reposted 10-31-05 (Happy Halloween!): **Thank you so much, **alchemy dream**! I fixed those little errors, so hopefully everything's good now. Where would I be without wonderful people like you to critique me? Well, my writing wouldn't be in some place good, that's for sure. :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block: **Of Smoke and Blood by **Shaltayen**. It's Star Wars, rated M, and has slash X/Q (Xantos/Qui-Gon). This fic is really short, but what I love about it is that it's got this poetic, twisted feel to it. And the way she did her paragraph formatting—I've never seen anything like it in my life. Each sentence runs on from the last paragraph and ends in the next, giving everything this chillingly warped sense. And since the entire fic is dark and twisted, it works wonderfully.

I had fun writing the Threepio scene in the last chapter. I love him—he's just so easy to write, and it adds in a little comic relief to keep everything from becoming too heavy. We also got to see Anakin's more manipulating side…I wanted to show how Anakin feels the need for complete control, and from your reviews I see I was able to do that. I'm glad that you guys can relate to my original characters. That means I'm doing a good job (hopefully!) with making them realistic.

Thank you for all the reviews, they made my day. I love reading them, and I like to reread them too. XD Yes, I am pathetic. But what I'm trying to say is, that your reviews mean a lot to me, so thank you very much. Anywho, if you spot any mistakes, please tell me and I'll correct them. I adore constructive criticism.

**Page Amount: **11

**Word Count: **8,385

Started 7-31-05, written 8-1, and finished 8-2-05

Listening to: frou frou "let go"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Eleven**: Far From Here_

'Mornings suck,' Tarren complained to himself. 'The day should start at noon.'

Then he had to ask himself, 'Why the hell am I up this early, then?' Seven o'clock…he had no clue why he woke up at such an annoying hour. The sunlight that streamed through the cafeteria windows was still faint, a faded buttercup yellow. If the sun wasn't fully awake and brightened, what was _he_ doing up?

He nursed a cup of coffee and scowled at it. He had nothing personal against it…except that its caffeine effect wasn't working as fast as he would have liked. Master Obi-Wan always warned him that drinking so much coffee would stunt his growth, but Tarren dismissed that as mother hen or old-guy talk. He only drank it occasionally; when he woke up before eleven or when he stayed up past midnight. Since he tried not to do either of those two things, he only had about three or four cups per week. Not bad, if he said so himself.

Sipping the black liquid, he winced. Hot. Disregarding the fact that he was scorching his tongue (who needed taste buds this early in the morning anyways?) he took another long gulp.

"Good morning, Tarren," a cheerful voice chirped as she plopped down in the seat next to him.

He almost choked on his large mouthful of coffee. He managed to spit it back into the cup before he accidentally swallowed it the wrong way. " 'Way," he mumbled. He had been going for a strong and forceful 'Go away,' but he supposed the meaning got across either way. He was too tired to care.

"I got you breakfast." A plate of buttered toast and scrambled eggs was shoved in front of him.

"Don't eat breakfast."

Carra laughed. "Careful, you're starting to sound like Darrien."

Tarren snorted. The smells of breakfast wafted towards him, and he wrinkled his nose in aversion. He took another sip of coffee and was thankful when the bitter aroma overpowered the mild smell of toast and eggs. What a disgustingly 'morning' smell.

His unwanted companion leaned in towards him, her golden eyes much too close for comfort. "Have you ever wondered if there's more to this place than we know?"—he ignored her, sipping his coffee and keeping his eyes averted—"There's so much that goes on here and we can't even explain it. The majority of people don't even notice what's taking place right in front of their noses most of the time…but I do. I watch, and what I observe frustrates and fascinates me. If you could solve those mysteries—even just a millionth of them—wouldn't you want to?"

He didn't reply. He didn't even look at her. She could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn't make a difference whether he responded or not. She liked to hear herself talk, was all.

"If you had the key to unlock everything, wouldn't you use it?"—he gulped down his coffee a little too quickly when she said _that_ word—"Not for yourself, but for the sake of knowledge," she pressed on, "You can only be serving the Temple by solving the mystery. Think—if we can understand how these strange occurrences work, then we can _help_ them. Because I know that everything that happens here aids the Temple in some way…I just don't know the 'why.' Sometimes I'll pass over doors that I _know_ are there, and never see them. What's at the bottom of the lake? Why do certain droids short-circuit when they entered this building? There has to be a reason for all of it… There are secrets here. Don't you want to learn them?"

"We are Jedi. We perform our duties. There is no excuse for questioning the ways of the Force." That had to be the longest sentence he had ever said during a morning. But he had to get rid of her soon—she was making him nervous.

"I'm not questioning the Force…I'm trying to help it. To do that we need to understand it," Carra pressed on. "The Jedi Code tells us that 'there is no ignorance; there is knowledge.' We need to achieve that enlightened stage to fully understand the ways of the Jedi and the Force. We need _knowledge_."

Tarren got up without another word, slamming down his half-finished coffee mug. He walked out of the cafeteria without once looking back. The mug rattled on the table a bit before calming, the black liquid inside trembling slightly for a moment longer. Some of it had splashed over the edge, and a dark drop of coffee slid down the mug, pooling at the base and making a ring on the table.

Carra's eyes danced merrily, and they were a stronger gold than the morning light. She deftly snatched a piece of toast from the untouched plate and took a bite out of it. Savoring the flavor of nearly certain victory, along with melted butter and bread, she said contentedly, "There's hope yet."

Tarren didn't know where he was going—just that it was far away from that nosey Bothan. Letting his feet carry him, he accidentally ran into someone. "Sorry," he muttered before continuing on. But this time he wasn't walking alone. Heavier footfalls than his matched his pace. He turned around and, still sluggish from the morning, snapped, "I said 'm sorry, so go 'way!"

"Apology accccepted," Skraith said calmly. His green eyes, bright and alert, contrasted wildly with his dark-red scales.

A little thrown off by the way Skraith had mildly responded to his angry apology, Tarren mumbled, "Good." He whirled around and started walking again. But Skraith continued to follow him. "What you want?" he yelled over his shoulder, unwilling to stop again.

"Keysss."

Tarren did a one-eighty so fast that he nearly stumbled over his feet. "Stop bugging me 'bout those! I told Carra, I'll tell you, you can't have 'em! They were entrusted to _me_, so keep your grubby hands off 'em!"

"I mussst have them," Skraith insisted, taking a step towards Tarren. "You mussst give them to me."

"I'll do no such thing!" Tarren said indignantly. "They're mine!"

Skraith took another step closer; his four green eyes had an intense look to them. "They do not belong to you. They were given to you. Recccently."

"So? Obi-Wan tol' me that he knew he could trust me!" Tarren snapped.

"Obi-Wan doesss not realizzze your ineptitude. Hand them over." He held a clawed hand out insistently. He straightened his lengthy, scaly form to tower over Tarren. Annoodats were tall creatures, and Skraith was six years older than Tarren. The effect was impressive.

It was threatening.

Without thinking, Tarren turned and ran.

Panting, hunched over from cramps in his abdomen, Tarren struggled to hear through the pounding in his ears. There were no heavy footfalls following him. He was safe…for the moment. Now that the eminent danger was gone, he had time to think. And his thoughts were angry. First Carra, now Skraith. It seemed like everyone wanted these keys. All they unlocked were some stupid storage closets…what was so interesting about that?

They were more trouble than they were worth. Tarren stomped over to the Temple entrance, planning on telling Master Obi-Wan, first thing when he entered the building, that he could take his stupid keys back. He didn't want them anymore.

However, the waiting took over an hour. By that time, Tarren had had time to assess his thoughts and think more clearly. He patted his pocket, assuring himself that the keys were still there: they were.

"Tarren?" Obi-Wan asked him, puzzlement and amusement coloring his voice richly. "What are you doing hiding behind a pillar?"

Tarren's head jerked up; he saw that Obi-Wan was wearing another weird, fancy outfit (this one blue and flowing). He ran a hand through his black hair. "Uh…I was trying to find a quiet place to meditate. People kept bugging me." Well, that was the truth. Except for the meditation part. But contemplation was almost like mediation…right?

"…I see. You seem troubled…is there something you wish to tell me?" Obi-Wan asked, concern in his voice. "You can tell me anything."

"No, there's nothing." Tarren shook his head. Looking objectively back on the events, Tarren knew that he could've handled the situations much better. It was just that it had been so early in the morning, and he hadn't been thinking…now that he was prepared, he could manage them easily. They wouldn't be able to ambush him anymore. There'd be no more surprise morning visits.

Obi-Wan sensed that Tarren wasn't telling the complete truth. Normally, he would have pressed Tarren to learn the truth of what troubled him, but all the other urgent matters he had to attend to distracted him and left him somewhat neglectful of Tarren's feelings. "Well, if there's nothing, I was wondering if you would like to walk with me?"

"Sure, I'd be honored, Master Obi-Wan." Tarren had to jog a bit to keep up with Obi-Wan's fast pace. "Since it's a little earlier than the normal lessons, should I get the others and tell them to meet in meditation room six?" he asked Obi-Wan in-between taking breaths.

"No, not yet. There's something that I need to do first, and I would like you to be there also."

"Why?"

"You can assist me by being an alibi and lookout. Please, it would mean a lot to me if you helped."

Tarren felt honored that Obi-Wan trusted him enough to do this. Now more than ever, he was certain that his decision to deal with Carra and Skraith on his own was the right one. Obi-Wan had given him those keys in an act of trust; what kind of message would he be giving if he shoved those keys back into Obi-Wan's hands? "I'll be the best lookout ever!" he said proudly, puffing up his chest a bit. "You can count on it."

"I'm glad to hear that," Obi-Wan said kindly. "This room will do." He entered an empty room and locked the door behind him, leaving Tarren alone in the hallway. Although he was glad that Obi-Wan trusted him to do something that was evidently important to him, he had no clue what Obi-Wan needed an empty meditation room and lookout for. Shrugging, Tarren reminded himself of what Obi-Wan said often: Jedi do their duty. No questions.

Obi-Wan took out the vibrating comlink. Clicking it on, Yoda appeared. "You have impeccable timing, Yoda," Obi-Wan said. "I'm starting to wonder if you aren't as omniscient as the Force you so admire."

"Appreciate your admiration, I do. But omniscient I never have and never will be. Simply well connected I am," Yoda said modestly, if allusively.

"I must say, I find myself overwhelmingly curious as to who your sources are."

"Unimportant that is." Yoda waved a clawed and gnarled hand dismissingly. "What matters is that know I do, when it is important to contact you."

"Yes, I do indeed have something important to tell you," Obi-Wan said, becoming all business as the 'Jedi switch' flicked on in his brain. "I found out that the weapon used to destroy the reek's cage during the assassination attempt on Leia Skywalker was a DC-15 blaster rifle…and those blasters are used almost exclusively by the clone troopers. If you'll give me permission to mingle with the clone troopers, I'm sure that I can find the person or group who was behind the attack."

Yoda struck his gimer stick once on the ground, an air of finality about him. "Give you permission I cannot."

"Why?" Obi-Wan demanded. He told Yoda his theory: "I'm betting that some of the clone troopers are feeling resentment towards the Emperor, and thus the Empire. As you know, the clone troopers have been assimilated into the Imperial Stormtrooper ranks. This larger group includes not only the clones but also distinctive people renown for their spectacular performances. The Emperor handpicks all these individuals, and every single one of them have been loyal or close to the Emperor in the past—we all know that the Imperial Stormtroopers are basically the Emperor's lapdogs and favorites. The clone troopers are now forced to mingle with these exceptional and unique personalities, all of them different, all of them skilled, and surely all of them haughty with superior complexes. And, most importantly, all are favorites of the Emperor.

"Already they face opposition from most of the regular populace—for moral, ethnic, and political reasons—and this conflict must be exaggerated and put to the extreme from continuous contact with the stormtroopers that aren't genetically engineered. The people who hate clone troopers and are hated by them, the naturally born, are now a permanent fixture in their daily lives. This must be making the clone troopers band together for support and safety. They feed off each other's discontent: _they_ were the ones to build the Empire with _their_ efforts and sweat and blood and deaths. And now they find themselves outcasts in their own ranks—all on the Emperor's command. Who wouldn't want to rise against a superior so cruel-hearted?"

Yoda gravely shook his head.

Obi-Wan emitted a small growl of frustration. "I know that I can find the group responsible for this! If we have allies on the inside…there'd be no limit to what we could achieve. If you just let me talk with them, I'm sure I could befriend them. Please, Yoda, I want to do something useful."

"Something useful you are doing already," Yoda said sharply. "Leaving your post would only incite suspicion, and lost this opportunity would become. Send one of our own we will, someone thought dead by the Empire. Eyes high up are focused on you, and invisible our infiltrator will be because of this. Have duties to attend to you do. Let others do their own." His green eyes, strong as ancient oaks, attested that nothing Obi-Wan said would change his mind.

Letting his frustration evaporate, Obi-Wan bowed and said, "I'm sorry for my rashness… My head understands that sometimes stillness is the strongest course, but my heart cries for me to spring to action. Though I know there is purpose for it, all this waiting is testing my nerves."

"Often find the true character of ourselves and others we do, not in the moments of action, but in the pauses in-between. Strong you are, Obi-Wan. Overcome this you will. In times of despair, remember the Force. Never alone are you, with the Force."

"Yes…duty and the Force. I will help you as much as I can. Give my respect and goodwill to the Jedi who volunteers to spy among the clone troopers. May the Force be with them on their mission."

"Everyone the Force is with, at all times. Simply harder it is to detect at some times than others." Yoda smiled, green face crinkling up. "More you have to tell me, I sense."

All the thoughts that had been pushed out of his head while he had been talking about the clone troopers came back. The information had been slithering in the back of his mind and now he grasped it firmly. It was hard to hold onto—wriggling in his mind like a snake—because he did not _want_ to remember. He knew he was only making things harder for himself by stalling, and finally said bluntly to Yoda: "Skywalker wants to teach in the Temple."

Yoda's eyes widened with surprise. "See this outcome I did not."

"Me neither." Obi-Wan tugged a hand through his hair jerkily. "He says that he wants to spend more time with me and that's the reason of his request…which is part of the reason why I suddenly wanted to get away from the Temple. I want to protect my younglings from him, and I thought that by leaving I might draw Anakin away from here…but I know now that leaving the Temple is not the solution."

"Indeed, it is not." Yoda sighed, leaning on his cane. "Accept him the Temple must; a teacher he will become. But if close he wants to be to you, close you must keep him—_do not let him talk to the younglings alone_. Tested our young Padawan Learners will be; see if they are true Jedi we will. Come troubles do and leave they will. Seek guidance with the Force I will, and contact you if insight I am given."

"May the Force be with you," Obi-Wan said.

"May the Living Force be kind to you," replied Yoda, smiling gently. Then he bleeped out of existence.

Obi-Wan sighed at the empty space. Hopefully, the information he had just passed on to Yoda would be the key to a swift and decisive victory. Every day that he spent close to Anakin made him a day nearer to being discovered as a spy, and death. Every day raised the chances of the small Jedi rebellion being exposed. The clone troopers could be the answer; they had tilted the balance once before and they could do so again. He cradled his head in his hands and rubbed his temples wearily. He hoped they were the answer.

Exiting the room, Obi-Wan noted that Tarren was taking his guard duty very seriously; he was standing straight and stiff, and took to rotating his head periodically in an oddly owlish way. Even though Tarren's 'guarding' resulted in somewhat ridiculous actions such as these, it warmed his heart to see such dedication in his pupil. It was this warmth—inexplicable, indescribable—that gave him the strength to carry on. "Thank you for your assistance, Tarren, you have been a great help—more than you can imagine."

Tarren gave him a toothy grin. "No prob, Master Obi-Wan. You know that I'll help you in any way I can."

"I do." Obi-Wan smiled. "That is why I chose you."

Tarren shuffled his feet, embarrassed and delighted by the compliment. Joy won out and Tarren grinned hugely. He patted his pocket reassuringly and said, "You won't regret it."

"Now, come, my young Padawan Learner." Obi-Wan motioned grandly with his hand. "It is unbecoming for a teacher to be late for his own class. It's almost time for the regular lessons, and I'm sure that everyone else has already gathered in our normal meeting place."

Tarren's eyes gained a sly look to them. "Well, we don't _really_ have to hurry to the meditation room…a teacher can never be late to lessons when he's the one teaching them."

"Nice try; obvious, but nice. However, being a teacher, I cannot condone to your insubordinate thinking. We must hurry." Tarren groaned, but jogged quickly to keep up with Obi-Wan. He could not match Obi-Wan's swift strides with his short legs, and struggled because of it.

Despite Tarren's bravado and great leaps of responsibility, it must be remembered that he was still only a child, and even a child striving to be an adult is a child nonetheless, and his strides are no more longer because of his struggles to fit into a foreign land.

When they arrived at the door they paused for a moment to catch their breath. Obi-Wan entered appearing close to immaculate, but Tarren still retained a winded look about him. Anakin was, much to Obi-Wan's worry, already there with the rest of the class. The younglings were staring at him with expressions varying from fear to resentment to curiosity. Like watching a reflection ripple gently in water, it was as if the younglings didn't know what to feel, and could not adopt one expression on their faces. Indecisiveness was the only constant on their visages.

Two people that Obi-Wan didn't expect to see raced towards him gleefully. Leia jumped at him, and Obi-Wan was forced to either catch her or let her drop. Soon enough, she had her hands wrapped around his neck as he carried her. "What took you so long, Obi-Waaan? We were _bored_. Daddy was trying to teach us something stupid, called 'med-tit-action.' " She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "My leg fell asleep from sitting still for so long."

"It's called 'meditation,' Leia," Obi-Wan corrected gently.

Luke hovered by him and said quietly, "I managed to do it." Pride colored his voice and face as he looked up expectantly at Obi-Wan.

"I'm very proud of you, Luke. That is a very hard thing to do on your first try," he complimented, ruffling the boy's blonde hair affectionately with one hand while holding Leia with the other.

"I don't care," Leia declared huffily. "It's boring."

"It's a good practice to clear the mind," Obi-Wan corrected her.

"Speaking of making clear…" Anakin got up from the meditation pad he was using and walked over to them. "Where were you? I find it a bit hypocritical of you to always rag on me for not being on time, then arrive late for your own class."

"He was helping me," Tarren butted in, sticking his chin up stubbornly. "I didn't get the finer points of meditation and Master Obi-Wan had to explain them to me. It took a while because I didn't understand anything he said."

Anakin smiled mildly, his eyes dancing with amusement. In his eyes lazed the smirk that a battle-hardened alley cat gives to an incessantly yapping, yet harmless, pup, who's boldness has gotten him more trouble then he knows. "I didn't realize I was under attack."

"You're not," Obi-Wan said firmly, instinctively stepping in-between the two. "You are only under inspection at this point. Students like to test their teachers, as you are well aware of."

Grinning, Anakin agreed, "I remember those good old days."

"Wait a second," Tarren cried, "Are you saying that _he's_ our teacher now? What about you!" He pointed an accusing finger at Obi-Wan. "You better not be leaving or…or…or I'll…" Tarren shut up, unable to make his thoughts comprehensible. Frustration and disbelief was written clearly on his face, and 'betrayed' was slowly seeping into his features.

"He's not taking it as well as everyone else, now is he?" Anakin joked lightly, unperturbed. "Yes, I will be teaching—along with Obi. Sorry, _Master_ Obi-Wan." His gaze found Obi-Wan, clearly finding the label amusing. There was a hidden challenge swimming in those murky waters, and it nearly provoked Obi-Wan to snap at him. But he refrained from lowering himself to that; he would not be undermined in front of his younglings. Anakin paused for a second, then let the moment slip by and said, "So your classes will be taught by a joint effort."

Tarren was about to retort, but he stopped when he saw Obi-Wan staring at him sternly. "Fine, Master…Whatever." He flopped down onto his regular mediation pad to Darrien's left side. And although he was still clearly angry, something had loosened in his face after he had learned that Obi-Wan was not leaving. Relief softened his features.

"You may address me as Master Anakin, or, if you're feeling more formal, Master Skywalker. I have no preferences and either will do." Leia raised her hand and waved it impatiently. Anakin asked, "Yes, Leia?"

"Can I still call you 'Daddy,' Daddy?"

"Certainly, honey. I was only saying that for the benefit of the younglings who might be unaware of whom I am or what to call me. Now, go sit on your pad so we can begin meditation."

She shook her head, curly brown hair flying everywhere. "I don't want to."

"Would it help if you could sit on my lap?" Anakin asked, used to this behavior and knowing exactly how to counter it.

"Yes!" She scrambled out of Obi-Wan's arms and hurried over to Anakin.

He rested her on one of his legs and said gently, "You have to close your eyes and empty your mind of thoughts…"

She scrunched her eyes closed. After a few seconds she cracked one of them open and said, "That's too hard to do. I have too much to think about."

"It's only as hard as you make it. Fine, let's approach this a different way…" A creative light sparked in his eyes.

He started in a low, soothing and rhythmic voice, "Close your eyes. I want you to picture a sunny day in a meadow…are you thinking of one?"—she nodded her head—"Good… Think of the sun warming your body, you're relaxed, the wind's rustling in the trees and over your face…there's nothing but you and the sunshine and the wind… You're warm and happy, and there's not a worry in the world… Not a thought to be thought…just sunshine." He paused, and then said extra softly, a whispered whisper, "Are you someplace far from here?"

She didn't even hear him.

Anakin smiled. "And that's the alternative way of learning how to meditate."

The younglings around him were a mix of confusion and disagreement; they had never been taught that way. But they said nothing to Anakin. Obi-Wan had always taught them to empty their mind, letting their spirit float into the great body that was the Force. Anakin had done almost the complete opposite, having Leia focus on one relaxing memory until that lulled her to 'sleep.' Anakin's way had been unorthodox, and they had never been introduced to such methods before. It unnerved them, drilling cracks into their carefully crafted routine. And, like all people, they resented and feared change to loved habits.

"That's the hint for you to start meditating yourselves," Obi-Wan said. The younglings hurriedly closed their eyes. He watched as they each sunk into a relaxed state, some quicker than others. But he noticed that all of them had a more difficult time than normal. Except for Jarg…but then again, sometimes he felt that nothing short of the apocalypse would shake Jarg up.

Anakin patted the empty meditation pad by him. "I saved you a seat," he said with a friendly, welcoming smile. Obi-Wan had to remind himself that there was a wolf lurking under that soft layer of fleece.

Obi-Wan took it and said politely, "Thank you."

"What? No 'Master Anakin' on the end of that?" Anakin joked.

"I didn't hear any 'Master Obi-Wan' myself," Obi-Wan said, keeping a light tone. "I'm just following your lead." Obi-Wan let himself relax and slipped easily into the ambiguous Force.

"Glad to know." Anakin closed his eyes and began to meditate. His features unwound, muscles loosening like a collapsing cats cradle. He hadn't done this in so long—it was like experiencing it for the first time again. How had he forgotten this wonderful feeling?

All too soon a mental summoning disturbed his peaceful state of mind. Scowling, he brought his mind down from its euphoria. He nudged Leia, and got Luke while she was shedding her disorientation. "We have to go home," he said quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone else. "I'll leave you with Threepio once we get there. I have to go to a meeting."

Leia protested with her eyes, but knew not to complain verbally; she was used to these abrupt leavings and knew that nothing she said would stop him. The trio left the room quietly.

A while later, Obi-Wan drew himself and everyone else from the Force. "Now that the other…teacher…is gone, we can begin the real lesson."

Carra said ruefully, "It was so odd having the second-in-command of the Empire, Darth Vader, here. And _teaching_, nonetheless." She flexed her clawed hands before clacking her nails together—a nervous habit she could never rid herself of, no matter how hard she tried. "Makes you edgy."

"Makes us meditate a lot more than normal too," Tarren complained.

"Ssstupid," Skraith hissed. "Did you really think we would ssshow him all the Forccce techniquesss and lightsssaber ssskillsss we have learned? In cassse you have forgotten, we aren't sssupposssed to know them." His tone had a sharper edge than normal, going beyond irritated and into viciousness. Tarren glared at him, eyes scrunched up and angry.

"I'm sensing a disagreement between you two. What is the reason for this animosity?" Obi-Wan demanded more than asked of them.

Tarren shook his head stubbornly. "I bumped into Skraith this morning, and he wouldn't accept my apology. He said that it wasn't good enough." Tarren shot Skraith a dark look. "Some people don't know when they're wrong."

"Skraith, is this the truth?" Obi-Wan asked, feeling a headache coming on.

"To an extent, yesss. Excccept that I wasss not the firssst to be rude. That honor belongsss to our young and mulisssh Padawan." It was a not-so-subtle insult aimed at Tarren, striking a low blow at a known weakness of Tarren's.

"Don't bring my age into this!" Tarren retorted angrily. "Just because I'm younger doesn't mean that I'm less experienced! Age has nothing to do with maturity, as someone presently here can confirm."

Skraith hissed a long string of something either unintelligible or in his native Annoo tongue. From his narrowed eyes and biting tone it was unpleasant, perhaps even distasteful and vulgar.

"Why I oughtta—" Tarren was rolling up the sleeves of his Jedi tunic. Skraith's tail jerked wildly from side to side, like a provoked snake about to sink its fangs into a threat.

"You two stop this right this instant," Obi-Wan said sternly. His wasn't shouting yet, but his voice was getting close to that volume. "You are Jedi, not bickering children. If you can't let a silly disagreement like that go, how can you expect to negotiate with politics and fighting planets? Part of growing up is letting go of childish grudges, and so far neither of you has proven your maturity. I'm especially disappointed with you, Skraith—you're eleven years old, you should be above this sort of thing."

Skraith's back straightened, but he said nothing in his defense. His tail was completely still, and he didn't even blink. His reptile features were emotionless as he absorbed the reprimand with a blank attitude.

Tarren's face, in contrast, grew redder and redder. It seemed as if embarrassment and anger were duking it out for control, and every time the battle reached a new fevered pitch his face grew a shade darker. His five-year-old hands fisted, before hanging loosely at his sides.

"Are you two done fighting?" Obi-Wan said rigidly. When the two nodded their heads stiffly he let the rest of his anger and impatience dissipate into the Force before saying, "Then we will proceed to the training room and practice dueling—and I will make sure that you two get different partners, since I don't think I can trust you to fight fairly in a one-on-one duel yet."

It was a subdued group that walked to the lightsaber training room. Obi-Wan discreetly got the keys from Tarren and raided the storage cabinet for the wooden swords they needed. Just as unnoticeably, he slipped the keys back into Tarren's pocket when he returned with the supplies.

He set the swords on the floor and let them pick out their favorites. Tarren grabbed the sturdy, average length one; Skraith the duel-bladed; Darrien the long, thin sword; Carra a short, flexible one; Jarg one with an odd nick on it; and Ki'lya one particularly smooth and polished.

The Coruscanti crowd all got shorter, sturdier blades. They were too young to duel or have a personalized blade of their own. They didn't know what fighting style suited them best yet, and therefore couldn't choose the proper blade to work with. Obi-Wan had found them all lighter, smaller blades, which they used to practice maneuvers and common strikes. He was teaching them Form I, Shii-Cho, which was what every Padawan Learner started with. He had set them up with a routine to follow while he was busy focusing on the older students.

Lilitaa's small, chubby hands could barely hold up the sword, and Huo had difficulties swinging the blade too. Once again, Obi-Wan regretted not being able to teach each student individually…but he did not have the time for individual lightsaber lessons, and it couldn't be helped. He could only do what was humanly possible of him, and hope that it was enough.

Turning away from the younger younglings' practice routine, Obi-Wan said, "I'm pairing Tarren with Jarg, Skraith with Darrien, and Carra with Ki'lya. You will duel with your partner one at a time, with the other teams watching. I want you to see their mistakes and think of ways that you can avoid them yourself. I will be observing the fight also, but I won't mention anything until the end of the duel. The victor will be the one who disarms their opponent or deals them a 'deathblow.' Carra and Ki'lya, you're up first."

Carra and Ki'lya faced off each other. They bowed formally before readying their lightsabers. Ki'lya took the starting form for Makashi (Form II, a very elegant style meant specifically for lightsaber dueling) and Carra crouched for Form IV's, Artaru's, beginning stance.

The time-honored tradition was that a Padawan Learner started with Form I for lightsaber combat. They continued their practice of this simple but sturdy form until a master chose them. They could then choose a more complex form to learn (which is what they normally did—few ever became masters in Form I), and then their master trained them in that form. Form I gave them a sturdy background in lightsaber dueling that helped them learn the more difficult stances and moves of other forms with greater ease.

Obi-Wan had given them about a year or two of Form I practice, but because he knew they were never going to be chosen by masters he had started their advanced lightsaber training himself. With the Galactic Empire ruling the galaxy, Obi-Wan knew that there might come a time when it would be necessary for them to be skilled fighters. He didn't like the idea of preparing them for battle, but he'd rather them fight than die. "On the count of three. One…two…three!"

Carra raced at Ki'lya, her sword high above her head. Ki'lya raised her sword and deflect the downward slash, letting the other blade slide across her own to not only reduce the shock factor but to make an opening in Carra's defense. Carra's side was left unprotected, and Ki'lya thrust at it. Carra twisted, the blade missing her midsection by centimeters. She then used that twist to tumble to the floor, springing up behind Ki'lya while slashing diagonally at her torso.

Ki'lya's blade was already there, and the blow was blocked. Carra kept their blades locked for a moment, putting pressure on it. Ki'lya did not move. Changing tactics, Carra let Ki'lya's blade slip off her own, dropped towards the ground, and did a 360-degree turn while balancing on one leg, using her right leg and blade to create parallel horizontal attacks aimed at Ki'lya's knees and stomach. Ki'lya danced backward, her blade held at chest level and pointed directly at Carra. What she didn't expect was for Carra to take that spinning attack and use its momentum to tumble forward on her shoulder, stabbing upwards as she planted her feet on the ground.

She blade jabbed Ki'lya in the stomach at the same time that Ki'lya's blade tapped against her neck. They grinned at each other.

"Draw," Obi-Wan declared. "Not bad, not bad at all. _However_," Obi-Wan said before they could fully appreciate the compliment, "there were a few mistakes here and there that would have gotten you killed if you were facing a more skilled opponent. Carra, while your aerobatic skills are impressive and the Ataru form suits you well, your lightsaber techniques are sloppy. You can dance around the opponent but you can't land a blow—all you're doing is tiring yourself out. Learn to use your energy more efficiently…let your attacks slide into one another to build up a momentum too great to block. You need to learn to connect everything. And Ki'lya, your defensive skills are superior, but you need to be more aggressive. Makashi uses precise cuts—you have to aim at the vital organs. If you want to spare your opponent, then Makashi is not the style for you—this form is meant for dueling to the death. Can you handle that?"

Ki'lya bowed. "Yes, Master Obi-Wan. I feel that Makashi is the form for me…I will practice harder."

"That's what I like to hear." He grinned. "Now, Jarg and Tarren, you're up."

Jarg had no exact stance; he had declared that he would mix all the forms together to create his own dueling technique. This had been met with much amusement on Obi-Wan's part and snickers from the other children, but when he saw that Jarg was serious he allowed the Gungan to do what he wanted. It was an intriguing notion and he had wanted to see how it would work out, especially with Jarg's natural clumsiness and lanky body. Sometimes the effects were downright funny; sometimes they were impressive.

But no matter what, it always seemed as if Jarg's moves and attacks were accidental results of clumsy stumbling. This made him unpredictable, and Obi-Wan wasn't sure if Jarg even knew what he was doing most of the time. Because of this, Jarg was not only dangerous to his opponent, but to himself, and Obi-Wan worried about him constantly. But he was willing to let Jarg do what he wanted. He would only step in if he felt it was necessary.

Tarren used Form V, Shien. He took dueling very seriously. He bowed stiffly to Jarg and then pointed his blade at his opponent. The Gungan bowed also, and said with a cheerful grin, "Good luckah to yousa!" Tarren nodded, choosing to not respond verbally.

"One…two…three!"

Jarg and Tarren ran at each other. Tarren swung his blade low, but Jarg jumped over it. He landed shakily, tilting backwards with his arms flailing to keep his balance. This caused Tarren's sideswipe to go right over his head. Jarg let himself fall to the floor, planting his hands on the ground and kicking out with both feet. Unable to stop the momentum of his swing, Tarren was unable to block or dodge the kick and was sent flying backwards.

Tarren let the Force guide him and landed firmly on his feet. Holding his blade out in front of him, he took a more defensive pose and waited for Jarg to come at him. Jarg rushed him, and their blades clashed and locked. Tarren pushed his blade forward and down. He met no resistance. Jarg willingly let himself roll onto his back, blade still locked with Tarren's. Tarren fell forward from his overexertion of force, a surprised look on his face. Jarg planted his feet on Tarren's stomach and used the boy's forward inertia against him; Tarren was flung over his head. Jarg completed the backwards somersault and landed on his feet. He twirled around clumsily just in time for his blade to block the downward slash Tarren had aimed at the back of his ropy neck.

Tarren pushed forward offensively and Jarg was forced to give ground. He managed two steps back before tripping over his own feet. He fell to the floor, Tarren's blade still pressuring his. On his back and Tarren's blade progressively pushing his own sword downward towards his throat, Jarg suddenly let his blade fall.

But instead of hitting his throat, the two blades clashed against the ground just centimeters from Jarg's thin neck; the spontaneity of the falling blades had made Tarren unable to direct its motion toward his opponent's throat. Jarg's feet whirled up to lock around Tarren's right arm. He then twisted his body, flipping Tarren onto the ground as he rolled onto his stomach. Tarren lost his blade when he tumbled to the ground, and Jarg, flat on his stomach and off to the left of him, had his blade pointed at Tarren's head.

"Jarg wins this one," Obi-Wan said as the two boys picked themselves up from the ground.

Jarg gave Tarren a hand up and smiled, saying, "Messa was sure tha' yousa was going to win! Messa was lucky when messa arms gave out tha' da blades jus' missed messa neck!"

Tarren stared at him in shock. "So, wait…when you let your blade fall…that was an accident because your _arms gave out_? I thought it had been a brilliant strategy, but the truth is that you won because _your arms gave out_. You must be the luckiest being alive." Tarren laughed at the fact that he had been beaten by a fluke. The battle had been won fair and square, and because of that he didn't feel resentful towards Jarg or angry with himself. He could laugh at himself if he understood the reason why.

"Messa have strong legs, though!" Jarg protested. Then he grinned and laughed with Tarren, agreeing, "But mostly messa jus' lucky."

"Your unorthodox fighting style let you win this one, Jarg, but don't let it get to your head," Obi-Wan said sternly, although he doubted anything could inflate Jarg's head; he was entirely too good-natured and simple to gain an ego. "That the wins you do achieve are all accidental is not a good thing. You only win half, if not less, of your battles. That is not a good ratio. This fight was one of your more spectacular and ingenious ones, and it shows me that you _can_ become a good swordfighter when and if you polish your skills. It's only because of these rare displays of exceptional dueling skills that I allow you to keep fighting in such a loose style. As you demonstrated in this battle, your legs are very strong and have a good range. Make sure that you keep using them to your advantage."

"Messa will, Massa Obi-Wan! Yousa can count on tha'!" Jarg said, shuffling his feet modestly at the small compliment. He stumbled on them a little, and laughed as he righted himself.

"Tarren, your problem is that you focus solely on offense or defense. By nature, Form V involves a mixture of offensive and defensive skills. What you need to do is mix those two together—blend attacks and blocks to your advantage. If you block and then see an opening, take it. If you're about to swing your blade in for a blow but see your opponent's blade coming toward you, change it to a block. Interchange them to confuse your opponent and force them to reveal weaknesses. Don't let your mind get locked into one mode."

"Will do, Master Obi-Wan." Tarren nodded his head, looking thoughtful.

"Now, the last pair to fight is Skraith and Darrien."

Skraith held his double-bladed sword with one hand, and it was tilted downwards and held slightly behind him. He used Form VII, Juyo. Although it was never mentioned, Obi-Wan worried that Skraith's use of the form bordered on the sub of Juyo, Vaapad. Only three Jedi ever fully mastered Vaapad, and two of them fell to the Dark Side. Mace Windu had been the only one to master it without giving in to its potentially dark powers. Vaapad drew on the Force and the emotions of the wielder to augment his attacks; this aggressive use of emotions could easily seduce the user to the Dark Side.

But Skraith was adamant on choosing Juyo; it was a very intricate style that involved a combination of grace, speed, and power. If he mastered it, he would be nearly unstoppable. That was what Skraith wanted.

Obi-Wan had known another Juyo user, and it was not a comforting thought that Skraith was using the same techniques, and even the same build of lightsaber as the other.

After all, that other had been Darth Maul.

'Skraith is either very foolish or very strong,' Obi-Wan thought. He had to be one or the other to use such a dangerous form. Skraith had shown his loyalty to the Temple and the Jedi time after time, but his choice of form still troubled Obi-Wan. That was understandable: Darth Maul had used that form to kill Qui-Gon, his former Master. Obi-Wan had then killed the Sith Lord in his anger and despair. It was not a memory he liked to remember.

Darrien, like Tarren, used Shien. His stance was simple, his expression calm.

"One…two…three!"

The two raced at each other, their blades whirling in their hands. They fought with a quickness and grace that was savagely elegant. Every blow was aimed to 'kill' their opponent. Obi-Wan didn't even try to separate the individual attacks. They battled with such speed that every move blurred into the other; block, attack, right left thrust left right up down sideswipe thrust kick jump. It was dizzying to concentrate on their whirling blades. Their swords constantly knocked into each other, causing a noise akin to an irregularly beating heart. If they had used lightsabers, Obi-Wan knew the air would have hummed and sung with the continuous contact. Instead it marched with the pound of drums.

Skraith locked the top proportion of his double-bladed sword with Darrien's single-bladed one, using the lower part of his sword to swipe at Darrien's feet while his opponent's blade was immobile. Darrien used a Force push to throw Skraith backwards before the blow found its mark. Skraith landed on his feet, claws sinking slightly into the wooden floor as he flipped backwards to avoid Darrien's rush. As he landed for the second time his blade was held in front of him, slicing down vertically. The inertia he had built up and his full bodyweight were behind the attack, and the force splintered Darrien's upraised sword as he moved it quickly to block.

Darrien's face remained emotionless as he continued to fight with the splintered blade. It was reduced to no more than a knife. Skraith, though he had an obvious advantage now, kept his face blank even as his attacks became more brutal. They coolly fought a heated battle.

Up down duck slash right left sidestep swing thrust block twist—

_Whump_.

Contact.

Skraith's blade dug into Darrien's chest, right about where his heart should be.

"Skraith wins this duel. But I want you both to know that you fought valiantly." Obi-Wan shook his head in amazement. "You two have certainly excelled past all my expectations. Some of the moves you've perfected you shouldn't even know about, at least not for a couple more years. I want to specifically point out Darrien's usage of the Force while in combat, which is something I haven't taught you so far—I'll be teaching you how to use Force powers during duels some time next week. Darrien showed creativity in combining the Force with his physical attacks, most notably because I haven't trained you in this method yet."

Darrien nodded his head. He avoided looking at the shattered sword he clutched.

Obi-Wan turned to the class, and not only praised Skraith but gave his class a lesson in tactics: "I am fully impressed with Skraith's intelligent strategizing. If you carefully observed the fight from the sideline—like you were supposed to—you can notice how Skraith led Darrien into the trap that led to the destruction of his sword. He boxed Darrien into a situation where he had to push Skraith back—that was the foot-slash while keeping their blades locked. When Skraith was thrown backwards, he appeared defenseless. Darrien pressed offensively, thinking he had gained the advantage, even when Skraith landed on his feet and did another back flip. It was _because_ Darrien pressed the attack that he was right beneath Skraith when he landed his jump, allowing Skraith to use his combined inertia and bodyweight to shatter Darrien's sword. This gave Skraith an obvious advantage for the rest of the duel, and ultimately led to his win. I commend you for your planning, Skraith."

Skraith bowed modestly, but it was clear that he was pleased. "Thank you, Massster Kenobi. I have learned from the bessst that ssstrategizzzing isss the bessst courssse of action. I am glad that I am worthy enough to reccceive your praissse." His four green eyes, with their cat-slit pupils, practically glowed.

The rest of the class was devoted to the practice of moves individually. Obi-Wan went around, correcting stances and giving advice. As he corrected Carra's footwork (she had a tendency to crouch too much), he watched Skraith and Darrien out of the corner of his eye as Darrien approached the Annoodat.

"You fought skillfully," Darrien said.

Skraith flicked his tail and responded, "Ssso did you."

They proceeded to practice separately together. No words were spoken, no looks were exchanged, and they gave no indication of acknowledging the other's presence. It was as if they existed on two separate, un-connecting dimensions and could not communicate with one another, even though they had spoken just minutes ago.

Obi-Wan chuckled; as he said before and would undoubtedly say again, theirs was an odd friendship.

Too soon he knew he would have to leave the Temple. He didn't want Anakin to enter the Temple to pick him up and discover them wielding wooden swords. Anakin had reacted extremely negatively to just the notion of the Temple having weapons; if he was to witness them in use by his younglings…

For the sake of the Temple he wrapped up lessons early and locked the swords away. As he had nowhere else to go (he didn't want to draw Dex to Anakin's attention, so he couldn't go to Dex's Diner—despite how nice that sounded), he headed back to Skywalker Skyscraper…the most luxuriously jailhouse in the Senator District.

As he entered the house, he was hit with the most delicious aroma of cooking food. Anakin peered out of the kitchen, a pleased and surprised expression on his face as he said to Obi-Wan, "You made it just in time for dinner." Anakin didn't verbally express his happiness with the fact that Obi-Wan had come home early, and of his free will.

He didn't have to; the warmth in his voice and eyes spoke for him.

Much to Obi-Wan's dismay, he realized that he was methodically being domesticated, small step by small step.

And for the sake of the mission, he had to allow this to happen to him.

"I'm glad you didn't start without me," Obi-Wan replied warmly, gluing on a happy smile.


	12. Lightsabers

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block: **Everything You Wanted by **obaona**. It's a Star Wars fic and rated T. I liked this a lot. It's first POV with Obi-Wan, but it's as if he's directly speaking to Anakin throughout the story—so there are a lot of 'you's also. Some people may not like that style, but for this story it really fits. It adds this extra emotion layer to it, as if Obi-Wan's trying to reach out to Anakin. This story is deep, and obaona's done a great job of writing it.

I read _a lot_ of information to learn everything I could for the duel scenes (I practically worship Wikipedia). I try to not only give you guys a good time with this fic, but to give you some real information about the Star Wars universe. All the information on forms, and how a Jedi student learns Form I until chosen by a master, is 'SW fact.' I may have taken a little bit of an artist license to it (by that I mean giving _reasons_ behind the methods), but I try to keep everything as accurate as possible. Oh, and Vee017, to answer your question…yes, Anakin does us Form V. That's very sharp of you to observe. :)

I got some good reviews for the last chapter, thank you! There was some nice feedback, and I love that. The main people who had questions last chapter were Phoenix Red Lion and Vee017. Well, now I have some questions for you. :) PR Lion, I tried to explain the reasoning behind keeping the keys in the Temple in this chapter. Does the reason seem plausible enough, or do I need to work on fixing that up? And Vee017, you said that Tarren was acting a little too old…well, I was trying to portray that he wanted to be older than he was, but did I go a little overboard? If I did, I'll try to fix that up in the last chapter, and some advice would be loved.

Thank you for the reviews. I love getting opinions, suggestions, corrections, and just about everything else. And if you guys have questions, I'll try to answer them. Unless you're meant to find out later, that is.

**Page Amount: **6

**Word Count: **4,890

Started 8-2-05 and finished 8-3-05

Listening to: frou frou "it's good to be in love"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide **

_**Chapter Twelve**: Lightsabers_

"Wake up, Obi," a gentle voice urged him quietly. No nudge accompanied it, just another soft sigh and, "You have to get up, you know. Wake up, sleepyhead." The last word was said affectionately, a verbal caress not unlike a warm breeze.

Obi-Wan tugged the covers off his head and winced at the light. After blinking and rubbing the crust out of his eyes, he turned to Anakin, who was crouched right by his bed, resting on the balls of his feet. Obi-Wan said groggily, "It's Sunday…I get to sleep in on Sundays…"

"Even though the Jedi Temple doesn't need you, the twins do. I have somewhere to be and I need you to watch them," Anakin said softly, fond eyes absorbing Obi-Wan into their depths. "So you have to wake up." He paused for a moment, and a wicked smile crinkled the corners of his mouth. "Do you want me to call the twins in, and have them help you?"

Obi-Wan chuckled, only to have it turn into a yawn midway. "Alright, alright, I'm getting up. You make a fine argument."

Anakin laughed melodiously, the sound hovering somewhere between brass bells and silver chimes. It was a rich, full and lively sound. "It's not hard to win an argument with a drowsy person. I'd have to be really trying if I were to lose. If it's any incentive, breakfast is on the table and it'll still be warm if you hurry."

"Right." Yawning, Obi-Wan rubbed a hand through his brown hair in an attempt to tidy it. It only became messier, strands sticking out wherever they pleased. "Breakfast."

"Now that you're half-conscious, I'll be leaving. Oh, and happy birthday," Anakin wished him as he walked out. He pulled the door gently shut after exiting.

Obi-Wan stared at the closed door. It took him a while to compute the fact as he did some mental math in his head. Finally, he mumbled, "It really is my birthday, isn't it?" He then shrugged and dismissed the knowledge as unimportant. Every time the day came around, he ignored it as if nothing was different. Celebrating the fact that he was getting older wasn't high in his priorities, and as a Jedi he had more important things to think of.

He dressed himself in a dark purple shirt and beige cloth pants. He still wasn't trusted to shop for himself, and Anakin chose all his clothes. If Obi-Wan had his way, all his outfits would be brown and light beige, of a bland but functional style, and identical. Which was part of the reason why Anakin wasn't willing to give him even that small amount of independence.

He ate breakfast slowly, savoring the flavor since he had nowhere to go and no reason to rush. He ran a hand through his hair, but it caught on a knot. Obi-Wan reminded himself to brush his hair after breakfast; he had forgotten in his hurry to get a warm meal. After breakfast, he straightened up his appearance and brushed his teeth, as well as his hair. Obi-Wan was a fastidiously clean person, immaculate like a cat, and took pride in that.

Wandering around the house to find the children he was supposed to watch, he discovered them glued to the TV in the living room. He flopped down on the couch next to Leia and Luke. Their eyes were fixed on the plasma screen. It was set on a channel aimed for children, meaning that plenty of cartoon characters and cute little animals were involved.

"Morning," Obi-Wan said, watching the screen disinterestedly as two cartoon cats tried to scratch each other to death. It amazes him sometimes—and not in a good way—the violence that children watched in the form of two-dimensional characters. "Shouldn't you be watching something…nicer?"

They nodded in agreement, but no one made a move to change the channel. Apparently, they weren't actually listening to him, but only pretending to. Obi-Wan frowned, but didn't make a move to change the channel himself. If Anakin let them watch this, then he supposed there was nothing he could do…any attempt on his part to alter their viewing habits would only result in fights and arguments, and 'Well, Anakin lets me watch this,' and 'You're not my mother, so don't tell me what to do!' The latter insult was only used by Leia, and only when she was extremely angry. Luke seemed, for some reason or other, to feel that this was too low a blow and was unwilling to say it. Perhaps because he had never lived with a mother, he felt it was sacrilegious to use the term as an insult.

As Obi-Wan didn't find the cartoon interesting, his mind began to drift. He leaned back on the couch and let his head settle on the puffy, comfortable material. He closed his eyes.

A lot had changed in the two Coruscanti months, three weeks, and one day that he had spent in this household. And a lot had stayed the same. What frustrated him the most was the fact that the things he wanted to change normally didn't, and what quickly altered was not to his liking.

One of the changes that worried him incessantly was the younglings' reaction to Anakin. For the first week or so they had all remained silent around him, which had made Obi-Wan happy. But then things changed.

Slowly, right in front of Obi-Wan's eyes and him helpless to stop it, the younger children started to warm up to Anakin. Leia and Luke had become permanent fixtures in the Temple by this time, in addition to Anakin, and the twins befriended the younger children easily with their unreserved nature and warm hearts. Since the children were friends with Leia and Luke, they then started to relax around Anakin. The Coruscanti crowd had seen Anakin's gentle and loving treatment towards his children, and they longed for that affection themselves.

Obi-Wan simply couldn't give them the massive amount of attention they needed while he had other students to teach. Small children needed attention to grow, just as plants needed sunlight, and Obi-Wan felt horrible that he could not give it to them. So in a silent agreement, without any discussion, Anakin taught and watched out for the younger group while Obi-Wan kept up his training with the older six.

Somehow, Anakin had beguiled the younger children, and they had fallen one by one under his deceivingly friendly spell. They forgot that he was a murderer, and only saw him as a father who loved his children. They saw only what they wanted. And what they saw they loved.

In contrast, the older six grew more resilient against Anakin. Even Jarg treated Anakin differently from everyone else; he wouldn't look Anakin directly in the eye when he talked to him and kept their conversations as short as politely possible. For Jarg, who was the nicest being living, to cold-shoulder someone…it was an extreme.

Skraith wouldn't say a word to Anakin, and his eyes passed over Anakin as if he wasn't there—even when Anakin asked him a direct question there was no acknowledgement on the Annoodat's part. Darrien regarded the Sith silently, his eyes always following Anakin with a mild contemplating look when he was in the room. Obi-Wan could tell that Darrien's observing attitude irritated Anakin. Which, because Darrien rarely spoke to anyone, Obi-Wan could only surmise was its purpose.

Carra chatted with Anakin constantly, asking this or that frivolous question until Anakin grew annoyed and snapped at her to shut up. Anakin would then abruptly leave, a flurry of jerking, angry movements that were disconnected from one another. Obi-Wan had glimpsed his face once after one of these episodes, and Anakin had the most peculiar expression on—a mixture of guilt for yelling at a child and anger, so much anger. When Obi-Wan asked her why she did this, and every day no less, she smiled at him kindly and said, "I'm revealing the monster under the sugarcoating, so I never forget what he truly is."

Tarren wore a perpetual scowl on his face whenever he was forced to be near Anakin. Ki'lya avoided him as much as possible, even going out of her way to do so; Obi-Wan would occasionally see her walking hurriedly down less traveled halls to keep from passing Anakin, and she would sit the farthest away from him during lessons.

They grew more fiercely protective and loyal to Obi-Wan as time passed. Whenever Anakin questioned them about Obi-Wan they would clam up. Even when he pressed they wouldn't give him the information he wanted. Obi-Wan bet that they didn't truly witness the Darth Vader that interrogated prisoners, but for them to stand up to an inquisitive and forceful Anakin was exceptional. The six wouldn't tell him exactly what Anakin asked about, but it only slightly aggravated him that they were withholding information from him. He was too proud of them to be truly angry. Most of it was likely trivial anyways.

Obi-Wan had to admit that Anakin's blatant charm was slightly weakening him. It was nothing profound, but part of him couldn't help but remember Anakin as the Padawan and friend from long ago—he got a wistful feeling every time he thought of the past. However, this reminiscing of the past only strengthened his resolve for the future. He had to complete his mission. He had to separate Darth Vader from the past memories of Anakin Skywalker—somehow he knew that by finishing his mission, this would happen. He would finally be able to bury the Anakin-child in his mind, and seal up the grave. Anakin would finally be good and gone from Obi-Wan's mind, a marker with a few in-scripted lines on it in and nothing more.

However, that goal was so far removed that sometimes he lost sight of it. Yoda hadn't contacted him since their discussion about the clone trooper gun; he didn't know if this was for the best or worse. It wasn't as if he had any information to tell Yoda, but he still wished that he were kept updated. Obi-Wan was sure if anything really important happened Yoda would contact him, but still… This stagnation on progress was wearing his nerves thin.

Obi-Wan had made no headway in his mission, and this fed his frustration. During some of Anakin's numerous, unexplained disappearances Obi-Wan had tried opening the staircase doors to different floors. He still had his decoder, but he found that it was useless; while some of the locks to the levels were electronically configured (the more important floors, Obi-Wan was sure), Obi-Wan soon learned that his decoder was no match for the advance security system. Technology wasn't his forte, and he didn't know how to overcome the complex locks.

Personally, he'd rather jump through a real firewall than deal with an electronic one.

* * *

"Hello, Tarren," Carra called out cheerfully, waving. She skipped into view, her feet having an extra light spring to them today. She flashed him a brilliant smile and stopped right in front of him. "How's your morning going?"

"Fine…for a morning," he said. He was more awake after the cup of coffee he'd had, and mornings never looked so bad once caffeine was running through his veins. "So, what brings you here to the lake room?"

Carra shrugged, sitting down by Tarren and letting the waterfall mist her face. "Does it matter? It's a beautiful morning."

"If it's what I think it is, then it does," Tarren retorted.

Carra laughed and admitted, "You got me there. But I'm speaking the truth when I say it's a beautiful morning."

"Really…" Tarren said, skepticism in his voice, "and how can you sense any difference? Coruscant isn't known for its varying weather—it's either sunny or rainy. Today's no different from any other sunny day."

"That's where you're wrong. Today is different; I feel it in my bones."

"And do you get aches when it rains?" Tarren laughed at the absurdity of it. "How about you tell me the weather for tomorrow? Should I bring an umbrella and a raincoat with me wherever I go?"

"Very funny." She stuck her tongue out at him. Then she grew serious. Tucking her knees to her chest and setting her chin on them, she gazed with unfocused eyes at the falling waterfall and its pale, shimmering, hide-and-seek rainbow. "Today is the day that you're going to use those keys."

Tarren's demeanor instantly became grave. His eyes got a dark look to them as he retreated into himself, and he said monotonously, "I told you not to talk about them anymore. Some things may change, and I may be friends with you now, but some things will never be any different than they are now or were then. I'll never give you those keys. Don't even bother mentioning them."

"But I do, every day," Carra said persistently. "I mention them every day, and every day I feel your curiosity heighten—why else would you retreat so quickly within yourself? You almost gave in yesterday, admit it, I saw that wondering look in your eyes before you hid it."

"That's where you're wrong… I have no intention of using them."

"Won't you even just tell me _what_ they open?" Carra begged. "I'd stop bugging you if you did."

Tarren laughed a harsh yip of a laugh, a hyena snort of contempt. "Only because you'd make yourself a lock-pick set, and then open them on your own. No, I'm not that stupid…I know you wouldn't come that close to solving your 'grand mystery' and then give up. It's just not your style."

"Then you should also know that it doesn't matter how long you resist, because I won't give up until you use those keys. They unlock something important, I know it. They have to, for you to guard them so stubbornly."

Tarren barked another laugh, thinking of how one of those storage closets was used to hold their wooden swords. There was nothing important in them, and Carra was a fool for thinking otherwise. The more certain Carra became in them holding treasures, the more certain Tarren grew in his belief that he guarded trash. "Why should I ruin your fantasies? You might be disappointed with what you find… Trust me, it's better this way. You search for your elusive treasure and I'll guard the solid fact."

"I don't care if I'm disappointed or not!" she exclaimed. "I don't care if they unlock a pencil holder! As long as I hold the unadulterated truth, I'll be happy. Please, I need the facts. I don't care what it is, as long as it's the truth."

"The fact is that they guard nothing serious. Why do we always get into this silly argument? Why can't you just leave things alone when they don't need to be fixed? I like having a friend—but how can I even tell that you're a friend when all you ask about are my keys? Leave, if that's the only reason you're here. If you're only here for the keys, you're wasting your time, and mine. I'd rather be alone than always wondering about my so-called 'friend.' "

"Don't be such a fool, Tarren! You're a good friend, and the only thing I don't like about you is that you have a chance to change things, and you won't take it. You're right; this argument is silly, I'm sorry if I've hurt your feelings… But I won't stop until I find out. Please, if you'd just let me get a glimpse, I'd be satisfied. You'd only have to use one key, even. I don't care if I don't get to see anything else. A sixth of the truth is better than none."

"…You'd really be content with me only using one key? Are you being honest?" Tarren asked, staring at her hard, as if trying to read the truth on her face. But if it was there, it was written in invisible ink and he was left unsure. She had never brought up this proposal before, and it left him at a loss of how to proceed.

"I seek honesty, so of course I speak it!" Her face was proud and open at the same time, a hint of righteous anger painted on her whisper marks. Her golden eyes, for once, were not dancing from the light. She was somber.

'Breakthrough,' she thought.

Tarren judged her face, and he was satisfied with what he saw there. "Fine, I'll show you one of them…but then that's it. You never bring it up again, and you don't dig around anymore. We'll be friends, and all this will be buried behind us." He felt sorry about tricking her, but this was for the best. He'd show her the wooden sword storage closet, and tell her that all the others were filled with the same type of material. She'd finally solve her mystery, and he'd finally have some peace and quiet. It was a win-win situation.

"I swear on my heart not to force you to do anything against your will," she said solemnly, her clawed hand resting on her chest right where her heart thumped excitedly.

Nodding his head in acceptance, he said, "Follow me." He led her down the corridors to the unused, dingy hallway set in the back of the Temple. If one didn't know where to look, they would pass the hallway by without even noticing, it was that thin, dark, and strategically placed. He opened the door to the maintenance room and went to the back. The six storage closets stood there solemnly, lined up like black sentries at midnight watch.

He went over to farthest right one, the one with the wooden swords. He took out the ring of keys and opened the door. Carra crowded behind him, peering over his shoulder. Knowing what her silence meant, Tarren said without looking back at her, eyes fixed straight ahead, "I told you that the truth wasn't as grand as the fantasy. You were better off daydreaming about it, and happier. The reality is only wooden swords."

"Maybe…maybe I—" Carra struggled to rein in her disappointment. She tried to say positively, "At least now I know." Her voice wavered, thick and uneven. Tarren turned around to look at her, and saw that her smile was wobbling. "Thank you for this…opportunity," she ended dully. Her gold eyes had lost their shine, he noted with worry as her gaze hovered somewhere around their feet. She laughed out loud and swiped the back of her hand against the corner of her eyes, rubbing them roughly. "I'm a fool, aren't I?"

"Wait, no you aren't," he called out to her as she started to walk away. Carra had been his first true friend, and he hated to see her in such a state. Plus…he was genuinely curious himself; Carra's inquisitiveness had indeed infected him. Besides, it wouldn't harm anyone to open the others; he was sure they only held harmless stuff. "I guess we can open one more…just to see." Obi-Wan told him that he could open the farthest three on the left if they were in a life-threatening situation—Carra's depression could be considered life-threatening. His actions were justified.

He didn't want to lose his only friend.

Carra's ears twitched. She turned around, her movement hesitant as if she couldn't exactly believe what she heard, and Tarren noticed with relief that her eyes had gained back a hint of their luster. Like vinegar eating away the grunge on a dull coin, her eyes were slowly gaining back the shine. "You mean…you don't really know what's in the others?"

"No… I just wanted you to think that so you'd stop bugging me. But I'm sure that it won't hurt to peek at them. Just a little glimpse."

"Not even enough to let the old air escape," Carra promised, her humor restored.

Carra's bounce-back had been so quick, Tarren suddenly wondered if he had been duped. But then he realized that he didn't really care one way or another. He _wanted_ to find out what was behind those locked doors. Obi-Wan probably opened them all the time; why couldn't Tarren? It was unfair to expect him to guard something for so long without telling him just what it was that he was protecting. He couldn't fully put his heart into a miscellaneous cause…

"We'll pick the second one to the left," Tarren said; his way of thinking, they might as well be random about this. Screw method. Carra nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Tarren slid the key in slowly, breathing in and out. This was it, he was sure; something spectacular, something like Carra's daydreams, was behind this door. He turned the key and it unlocked with a resounding _click_.

The curiosity he had dammed in for three months was now leaking out, and he could feel the torrent becoming stronger by the minute. He savored the feeling, not willing to let the moment slip by just yet. He had been trying to be a grownup for too long, and it felt good to throw all that responsibility away and finally be just a kid again. He'd been grounded by duty for so long that, shedding the cumbersome thing, he felt as if he were walking on clouds. His bones might as well of had the density of helium.

"Open it," Carra said breathlessly, eyes wide with anticipation.

"I was getting to it," Tarren said irritably in a good-naturedly way, the moment gone but the glow living on. But he did quicken the process, and swung the door open immediately. His expectations were not disappointed with what he found on the other side of the black durasteel door.

"Are they real?" Carra whispered, her voice quiet with awe.

Tarren stepped closer and picked up one of the handles. In doing so, another handle dropped to the ground and rolled underneath the storage closet. Ignoring the one that had fallen, he inspected the one in his hand. There was a tag on it, and he read, "Qui-Gon." He pressed in the button, and a green blade shot from the handle. The air sang as the lightsaber hummed vibrantly in greeting. He gave it an experimental swing, and it buzzed lively in response. "Yeah…I think they are," he said, equally breathless. "What do you think the tags are about? Names for the lightsabers?"

Carra suddenly surged forward, digging her hands into piles after piles of handles. She didn't even pay attention to Tarren, who squawked at her not to jump in front of him when he had such a dangerous weapon in his hands. She picked each one up and read the tags, "Odun-Urr… Stass Allie… Daakman Barrek… _Mace Windu_!" she said excitedly in recognition. "These are names, but not for the lightsabers—they're names of people."

"What? Really?" Tarren asked, but he wasn't really paying attention. The lightsaber in his hand was too beautiful for him to pull his eyes or mind from it. It was such a lovely green, like lush grass on rolling hills, and this wonderfully _good_ feeling seemed to emanate from it.

"Really," she said with certainty, her sharp mind working fast. "Don't you remember any of Obi-Wan's history lessons?"—it was a rhetorical question, as they both knew the answer was 'no'—"Mace Windu was one of the Masters on the Jedi Council while Obi-Wan was here. He was the only Jedi who mastered the Vaapad technique without falling to the Dark Side. Obi-Wan knew him personally, so he went on a little longer with that Jedi's profile—I remember him specifically well because Obi-Wan started to talk about how intimidating he was, and how he would always glare. Obi-Wan admitted that he was scared of him sometimes." Carra giggled. "Imagine that—_Obi-Wan_ scared of somebody. Hardly seems possible, he's so calm all the time."

Tarren chuckled. "Oh yeah, I remember that lesson…now _that_ had been funny. We ratted on him for so long afterwards that I bet he regretted even saying it."

"I think these are the lightsabers of the deceased…they must keep them in the Temple. Maybe for emergencies."

"That's what Obi-Wan told me; only open the farthest three if I'm in a life-threatening situation. I guess the keys had to stay in the Temple so that the Jedi had a way to defend themselves during a crisis, or something," Tarren off-handedly commented. His eyes were still following the green lightsaber's dance through the air. "Qui-Gon…I don't know why, but that name sounds familiar. Is he another dead, historical figure that Obi-Wan taught us about?"

"That's it!" Carra exclaimed, clapping her hand together with enthusiasm. "That name had been itching at the back of my mind… No, Obi-Wan never mentioned him, but that's the guy Darth Vader kept asking about. He was always pressing us, seeing if we knew anything about a 'Qui-Gon'; if Obi-Wan ever mentioned him, if we learned anything about him…" Carra shook her head. "I bet he had a personal vendetta against this Qui-Gon, whoever he was. He always looked angry when he asked—but then again, he always looks angry." She scowled. "If you look hard enough, you can see it. Think of the look on his face if he learned that Qui-Gon was already dead, and his search was a waste of time," she crowed.

Tarren deactivated the lightsaber and set it on an equipment shelf. "Hey…what do you think are in the other closets?" he asked, looking longingly at the other closed doors. He couldn't stop his curiosity now that he'd had a taste of what it felt like to give in to it. No wonder Carra was the way she was, if this was the sort of natural 'high' she got from solving a good mystery.

Carra grinned. "I'd thought you'd never ask: let's find out."

Tarren eagerly opened the farthest left one. This one held equipment and Jedi robes. Their hands greedily felt the material, alternatively tugging at it and smoothing out the wrinkles. "They're real," he said. "This is exactly like what Obi-Wan used to wear, before, well, you know…DA—The Darth Age." He'd never been able to joke about the matter before, but now nothing seemed too serious.

"Look, a four-armed one," Carra giggled as she held up a funnily made one with four sleeves.

Tarren laughed. "Okay, so maybe they're not _all_ like Obi-Wan's—but I bet he'd wear it, if the choices were that or one of those fancy-smansy outfits."

"Open the next!" Carra said excitedly. It was like opening Christmas presents; once she started, she couldn't stop. Neither could Tarren. He willingly tore the center left one open. He opened the door so forcefully that a ton of stacked cubes fell to the floor, clattering away as they rolled and bounced. A few sharp corners jabbed his feet and he danced back lightly with a wince.

He laughed and picked up one. "What are these for? Do Jedi stack blocks in their spare time?"

"If we could draw dots on them, we could use them as huge dice." She held one up to the light. "They're pretty. Like blue crystals, eh?" She twisted it, making the light sparkle off it. "I could make a really big, really wizard necklace out of this."

Tarren observed, "They'd make great good luck charms. They give me a good feeling. Like running with thick, dewy grass under your bare feet." He threw his hands up and closed his eyes, smiling, happy and not even fully understanding why—just because, just because.

"Like figuring out a good puzzle," Carra agreed. Surrounded by the pile of calm-blue cubes, they just sat there for a while, soaking up the mellow euphoria. The six-sided cubes' good vibes merely heightened the younglings' happiness and child-like joy. Still surrounded by the cubes, Carra said cheerfully, "Open the next one, open the next one!" As Tarren grudgingly got up to open the center right storage closet, Carra started rambling off what could be in it, "Maybe it's got Force-sensitive creatures, or a radioactive robot, or old Republic coins, or special meditation mats, or levitating seats, or gimer sticks, or—" She stopped, her eyes widening in fright.

Pyramids.

Pyramid after pyramid was stacked in the closet, little compact black devices that were so similar to the cubes, yet so much…darker. They were sinister. Evil. Even the good feeling from the cubes couldn't stop her from feeling the cold caress of death and murder. A type of madness not born, but bred, into men curled off the pyramids in thick waves, like toxic smog from a dragon's wheezing, gaping, smiling jaws.

"Tarren…you should shut that door," she said nervously, her hands splaying on the cubes in search of comfort as she clacked her nails against them in an increasingly speedy manner. _Tick_, _tick_, _tick_ _tick_ _tickticktickticktick_— "Something's not right."

Tarren titled his head to the side; the way his black hair reflected and absorbed the light resembled and reminded her of the obsidian pyramids. When he turned around slowly, he had one of the small pyramids clutched in his hands. His smile twisted sickly as he said, "I'd say. These Jedi Holocrons are disgusting."


	13. Gold Ring

**Reposted 11-8-05: **Thank you, **Vee017**, for critiquing my work and pointing out the flaws that I overlooked. I went back over it, and after reading it with the new perspective your review gave me, I found that there was a lot to fix. Hopefully this chapter is now better, and makes a little more sense. I only hope that I haven't screwed it up more…gah, now _that's_ a frustrating prospect. Well, look on the bright side, now the chapter's longer!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block: **Silence: The Dark Side of a Hero by **Follow the Untrue**. A Zelda fic that is rated M and involves yaoi between Dark Link/Link. Follow the Untrue's writing is superb. I love her choice of words, and she's very descriptive. Not to mention that even though the overall tone of the story is dark, there are some parts that are so funny that I can't help but laugh out loud.

The last chapter was a bit hard for me to write. I knew what I wanted the characters to do, but I had to go about a specific way of them doing it…it had to be realistic, yet they still needed to be in character. I didn't want anyone to hate Carra and Tarren. They are, after all, just two children, and they didn't understand the graveness of the matter. I hope I portrayed that. And now, we'll see the consequences of their foolishness…

Wow, thank you everyone for the encouraging reviews! I'm glad that you're enjoying our little journey so far. Please, if you find any grammar or spelling errors, or finds holes in my plot, tell me. I'll try to fix them to the best of my extent, if it's possible.

**Page Amount: **8

**Word Count: **6,183

Written 8-3-05

Listening to: frou frou "it's good to be in love"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Thirteen**: Gold Ring_

Obi-Wan was embarrassed when he found out that he had fallen asleep. Anakin asked him to watch the kids, and what did he do? He fell asleep. It was just that the cartoons Leia and Luke watched were boring to him, and he had been tired from waking up early on his only day off…

He realized that the twins weren't on the couch anymore. The plasma screen was turned off, and he didn't hear them anywhere near. "Leia…Luke…?" he called out uncertainly. Were they just trying to scare him? They'd been known to, without telling him that he was included, play hide-and-seek with him as the seeker—they got a laugh out of that. When he didn't get a response, he trudged up to the greenhouse. They spent most of their time there, so it was the most logical place to start his search.

He found them playing with Kye, the effervescent veractyl chirping happily as she play-pounced them and licked their cheeks. When Leia and Luke had discovered Kye's new residence in their greenhouse, they had been ecstatic. They loved playing with her, and she with them. Leia gave a giggling shriek when Kye's rough tongue hit the ticklish spot right under her ears.

Obi-Wan walked towards the trio, and saw with some surprise that Anakin was there also—making it a quartet. He was sitting on a rock off to the side, watching the others without becoming involved in their games. Noticing that Obi-Wan was looking at him, he waved him over and explained, "I told the twins to let you get some sleep, so I took them up here to play."

"I thought you had some business to do…?" Obi-Wan sat on the rock by Anakin.

"I did," Anakin said with a faint smile. "You slept for a while… I was able to get everything ready while you were out like a light. I must say, is this what happens every time I ask you to watch the kids? You sleep on the couch?" He shook his head in mock disappointment. "I expected more from you."

"…" Obi-Wan couldn't deny the fact, mortifying as it was, so he said nothing.

Anakin noted Obi-Wan's glum face and said, "Oh, come now, Obi. I was only joking. There's always Threepio to watch out for them; I only wanted you to be aware that I was going so that you wouldn't be surprised when you woke up and found yourself alone with the kids. Besides, there are more important things to talk about and do this day." There was an easy smile on his lips and in his eyes.

"Like what?" Obi-Wan asked.

"It's your _birthday_," Anakin said, shocked. "How can you keep forgetting that?"

"You know that I don't celebrate birthdays," Obi-Wan countered. "I never did when you were my Padawan, and I still don't."

"Yes…but still…" Anakin shook his head ruefully and stated, "I guess from having Leia and Luke I've come to appreciate how special birthdays are. We have a small party for them every year; they open gifts and blow out candles, and we have fun. Now it just feels…"—his eyes wandered directionless as he searched for the right word—"_wrong_ not to celebrate."

"Fine, then," Obi-Wan said reluctantly. "We can celebrate me getting older so that you can have your excuse to eat cake. But I don't want anything big; just buy a cake for the kids, put a candle on it—_one_, mind you, I don't want to see the real number—and let them enjoy themselves for me."

"I'm doing better than just that." Anakin laughed at Obi-Wan's surprised look. "I've got us permission to go someplace special. Not to mention, I got you a gift…" Anakin reached into his black tunic and, with the flourish of a magician pulling a white rabbit out of a black top hat, pulled out a small, innocent-looking white box. "Open it," he said encouragingly.

Obi-Wan hesitated for a second, before slowly opening the box. Inside laid a ring on a necklace. Obi-Wan lifted the gold ring and chain, letting the sunlight hit it. It was polished to such a gloss that it looked like liquid metal. "…Thank you…" he said awkwardly. He didn't want a gift, much less an expensive one. Gifts felt like obligations.

"I like the continuality of a ring; it never ends or begins. It symbolizes unity. I know this ring's design is kind of simple," Anakin said worriedly, hurriedly, perhaps sensing something was slightly off with Obi-Wan's reaction, "but I thought that something too extravagant would be too much for you. If you don't like it, we can always pick out another one…"

"No, no, this is perfect. You know me too well," Obi-Wan said. Now if only Anakin knew him well enough to understand that he didn't want a gift at all. "Don't worry, it's beautiful. I like simplicity, and this is perfect." The ring was indeed simple, and beautiful because of it; a gold metal band with no engravings or markings on it whatsoever. "Thank you, Anakin."

Anakin beamed. "Put it on," he urged. "I want to see if the chain is the right size."

Obi-Wan unclasped the necklace and wrapped it around his neck. Fitting the end pieces back together, the ring settled level with his heart. He had to control the urge to tuck it into his shirt; that wasn't what Anakin wanted, so that wasn't what he could do. He knew that if he did what Anakin wanted, someday Anakin would trust him enough to give him access to important information. He wanted Anakin to trust and confide in him; that was the short-term goal of the mission, and crucial to obtaining the long-term objective.

"It fits just right," Anakin said lovingly. "I knew that I had all the right measurements, but there was still that worry… I want everything to be perfect." Anakin abruptly stopped the conversation. Instead of continuing on, he turned to the children and told them, "Daddy and Obi are going to go out now, so wish Obi a good birthday before he leaves."

"Happy birthday!" they said with enthusiasm, faces still flushed and rosy red from playing with Kye. The veractyl chirped something that nearly mimicked their tone exactly.

"Now, let's get going," Anakin said as he got up.

Obi-Wan got up as well, asking, "Where are we going?"

"That would be ruining the surprise. You, more than anyone, should understand the necessity of secrecy. Telling you now would just dull the surprise and joy later on. We don't have an exact schedule to keep, but I want us to get there as soon as possible."

Anakin reached out his hand, as if to clasp Obi-Wan's, but when Obi-Wan's fingers flinched he stopped. Anakin's hand froze for a second, caught in the open, a deer blinded by the headlights of an oncoming roaring truck and helpless to escape the inevitable destruction of metal and tearing flesh—. Then it retreated, folding itself into the black robe. Smiling, Anakin said, "Let's get going." There was no emotion in his eyes, and that said more than anything of the intensity of his wounds.

* * *

Carra shrieked and got up from the pile of cubes: Jedi Holocrons, Tarren—no that _thing_—had called them. She ran out of the room as Tarren watched her go disinterestedly, lips twisted up in scorn. He absently played with the Sith Holocron in his hands, dancing it across his fingers.

He sighed and said with a little regret, "Pity. Why did I have to get possession of the male body? That girl would have made a much better host…if only she hadn't been surrounded be those damn cubes…" He glared at them, a disgusted sneer on his face. Picking them all up, he violently shoved them back into the storage closet and locked it. "Can't have anyone else finding these," he said lightly. He then locked the storage closet holding the Sith Holocrons. "And it wouldn't do to have other Sith spirits interfering."

Opening the closet to the right, he started to rummage through more lightsabers—lightsabers of a much darker nature, having been saturated with blood and hate. "What, they don't have mine here?" He scowled. "Did they not consider me much of a threat? How pathetic… But I will make sure they regret their mistake; the name Yuthura Ban will be feared once again." He finally picked up a double-bladed lightsaber that had the nametag 'Bastila Shan.'

Activating the blades, Tarren said with satisfaction, "Finally, a _female's_ double-bladed red lightsaber. And here I was beginning to think that these Jedi-bastards were actually sexist." He sneered as he locked the door. "Now, where did that little Jedi chickling run off to? I'm anxious to see if they are as weak-willed as ever…" He bared his teeth in a predatory grin.

Suddenly, he stopped. His eyes grew more distant as the malevolent spirit possessing him accessed his memories. "Hmm…most interesting… So the Jedi have been hunted down. Finally. I knew the Sith would reign again. But there is still one known Jedi alive…well, that settles it. The younglings will have to wait then. I have a more satisfying enemy to kill." Tarren stretched out his awareness of the Force, searching for the Force signature of this 'Obi-Wan.' He couldn't find it; growling with frustration, Bastila Shan brutally forced her own powers into his body, making it take in more Force power than it could handle.

Even though the body was left gasping on the threshold of death, his heart tightening in pain, she found her target. "Pathetic boy," he said disdainfully, drawing in ragged, painful breaths.

He was about to walk out of the room when he noticed the lightsaber on the shelf. He stared at the lightsaber in his hand and then said angrily, "I _hate_ the thought of using a man's blade—and a _Jedi's_ no less—but deception is always the best course of action." He deactivated the red lightsaber and switched it with the green one. Clutching the blade tightly, he placed the Sith Holocron in his pocket by the keys as he headed towards the hanger bay. He—or more specifically _she_, the monster possessing his body—was in a decidedly good mood, and felt lively enough to even whistle an eerie tune in minor.

* * *

"Ragoon-6?" Obi-Wan said, amazed and happy at the same time. The untainted beauty of the world caught his breath every time he saw it. The glorious globe of blue and green was growing larger in the window every second as they neared their destination.

Anakin steered the spacecraft, landing it down gently in a meadow. "Brings back some not-so-good memories, eh?"

"Tell me about it. The last time we came here bounty hunters tried to kill us. So much for the idea of a simple training mission."

"I always wanted to come back here with you. But we never found time, and then…" He shrugged. "Well, we're here now, and that's all that matters." He was happy that his surprise had gone over so well with Obi-Wan—he wanted this to be special. "I remembered how fondly you spoke of this place, so I got the permission required by the Senate to come here." Anakin opened the door and said gentlemanly, "After you."

Obi-Wan exited the ship and stumbled into a world of colors so vivid and pure that they glowed from within. Clear blue skies and green grass harmoniously weaved together a tapestry of glorious life. Moving jewels fluttered across the sky on graceful wings. "Force—what a beauty." He laughed. "For a second I forgot how to breathe."

Healthy trees grew straight and strong, their leaves shining a rich green in the warm sunlight. A mild breeze drifted southward, making the trees' branches wave at them in greeting. _Come…sit under our arms, and we shall shelter you,_ they seemed to say.

Anakin stepped down the ramp also. "I take it that's a good thing."

"Yes, it is." Obi-Wan smiled freely for the first time in Anakin's presence. This was genuine, absolute happiness. Nature made him feel that way, and with so much of it here… How could he not feel relaxed? It was as if he had left all his troubles far away, on Coruscant where they couldn't bother him. The constant wind rustled the leaves of the trees, creating a gentle white noise that lulled his ears with its pleasant-sounding melody.

Perhaps sensing Obi-Wan unrestrained exhilaration, Anakin laughed and grinned hugely. Raising his arms, he said magnificently, "This is my birthday present to you—the world. But only for a day," Anakin joked, "because by tomorrow my exclusive visiting rights will be null and void."

Obi-Wan laid down on the grass and closed his eyes. Smiling, he said contentedly and a bit childishly, "The sun feels nice."

Anakin sat down on the ground right by Obi-Wan, so near they almost touched—but didn't. His shadow fell on Obi-Wan's face. "Hey," Obi-Wan protested, "I didn't say that to you for you to block my light. Move over."

Anakin obeyed the playful command, scooting back until his long shadow fell on the grass above Obi-Wan's head instead. "Sorry for darkening your mood," he said, struggling to keep his face straight and wondering if Obi-Wan would pick up on what he was saying.

"Thank you for that enlightening statement," was the counter-pun. "I feel much brighter now."

"So it was only a passing rain-cloud, then."

"You're more like a cumulus cloud."

"I am not like a cumulus cloud!" Anakin exclaimed. "…What exactly _is_ a cumulus cloud?"

"A big soft puffball."

"This is outrageous; it's like the kettle calling the pot black."

"I don't see any pots," came the random remark.

Anakin laughed, admitting defeat. "I can't win a battle of words with you. It's just too much for my poor mind to take." He watched Obi-Wan face light up in a smile. Obi-Wan's green eyes were still closed, but if they were open Anakin knew they'd be smiling too, and this idea brought him great joy. "But if anyone asks you, I only let you win because it's your birthday."

"Then should I let you win every other day, since it'd be your un-birthday?"

"Where did that come from?" Anakin asked, both puzzled and amused by the odd notion.

"From one of the many Disney movies your children have forced me to watch with them. 'Alice and Wonderland,' I believe name was. Very odd movie…almost disturbing…although I did like the Cheshire Cat."

"Why?"

"He could disappear at will." Obi-Wan let the sun wash over him, loving the feeling. The grass was warm and soft, the wind gentle and cooling, and he was completely surrounded by nature; it was the best birthday gift possible. This is what he needed, not rings and physical possessions. The sun warmed his metal legs through his thin pants, and for once in his life the prosthetic legs felt comfortable and just _there_—not a burden, but finally an accepted part of his body. They felt warm, almost human.

"You can be like the Cheshire Cat if you want, if only for a day. It's like we don't exist; we've completely disappeared from the universe… It's just you and me." Anakin laid down and closed his eyes also, liking the idea of 'just you and me.' "You're right, it's a nice feeling." Obi-Wan hummed in agreement.

They laid in silence for a while, before Anakin said spontaneously, "I've kept it, you know."

"Kept what?" Obi-Wan asked lazily.

"The Force-sensitive river stone you gave me on my thirteenth birthday." Anakin smiled. "See? You do celebrate birthdays…just not as many and not your own."

At the mention of the stone, Obi-Wan felt a pang of longing. The stone always reminded him of Qui-Gon—his mentor and friend had given it to him, and he in turn had given it to Anakin. He still missed Qui-Gon at times, especially when he was in need of guidance; times like these. "I'm amazed that you've kept it for so long, but maybe I shouldn't be…it was my favorite possession also."

"That's why it means so much to me. I keep it close to my heart, always; even now I have it with me." He patted a hidden pocket in his tunic and said, "That little black stone reminds me of you; its sturdiness, its empathy with the Force, its simplicity. It's warmed my hands on many cold nights."

"I remember it having that amazing ability," Obi-Wan said. "It kept my hands from getting frostbite a couple of times, on those extra cold planets that we always seemed to get missions on."

Anakin opened his eyes, looking crossly at a cloud passing over them; he knew that the 'we' did not include him. When they had been Master and Padawan, they had always seemed to get missions with sand—grimy, scratchy, ugly sand.

'Just you and me' never seemed to last long.

* * *

"Darrien! Darrien! It's horrible; there were pyramids, and Tarren, he's—!" Carra busted into Darrien's personal room, where he and Skraith were sitting silently, in the middle of a very heated staring contest. She hunched over, breathless. Straightening, she yelled out, "We used the keys, and—and—he's been possessed!"

At the word 'keys,' Skraith jumped off the bed and hurried away, a wild look in his four eyes.

"Skraith—!" Darrien called out commandingly, trying to go after his friend, but Carra stopped him by clutching the front of his tunic. As Carra babbled on, he glared over at the door with an expression that clearly said _why did you leave me here with her?_

"You know about the keys, Darrien, don't you? You knew that he had them—you told me about Obi-Wan and him talking—you have to know how to help! You've got to save him, you just got to! There wasn't something right with those closets—we unlocked something evil—"

Darrien attempted to calm her, all the while trying to extract the exact truth from her gibberish with his carefully worded questions.

"We didn't mean to—I would never open something so—it wasn't intentional—you believe me, don't you? You know that I wouldn't deliberately open something evil. It was an accident!"

Darrien smiled at her, patting her back soothingly. "Don't worry. I know that."

Skraith raced down the hallways, his lean legs stretching out as far as they could. He had to get there fast, he might already be too late—he arrived to an empty maintenance room. He scowled at the locked storage closets, rattling each one to no avail. He pounded his fist angrily on one, and the sound echoed—laughed—back hollowly as if mocking him. He whipped his head around, scanning the room for anything he could use as leverage to tear the doors of their hinges. It was then that he saw the lightsaber handle on the shelf. He grabbed it hurriedly and raced towards the hangers.

Plans were all ready forming in his head. He could use a ship. They practically piloted themselves, if coordinates were entered—or if the ship latched onto a signal and followed _that_. Tracking devices were mandatory in all Jedi ships; they had been ever since the Empire came into power. It was just another leash the Sith scum were putting on the Jedi, and it made Skraith sick—made him angry.

"I'll find him," he muttered to himself. Determination steeled his eyes and made his steps quick. "I'll get the keysss, and end thisss onccce and for all."

* * *

"Obi-Wan!" a pleased voice called out, smashing through Obi-Wan's pleasant daydreaming as if it were a window, leaving behind only fragments and shards of translucent substance. He sat up, startled, and saw Tarren standing just a little ways off, a peculiar expression on his face. "I didn't know that _he'd_ be here," Tarren finally said, his voice nowhere near as joyful as before. He inspected Anakin with a curious gleam in his eyes. "I didn't sense him."

"What? How did you find me, Tarren?" Obi-Wan asked, confused. Something was oddly wrong, and the fact was slowly nibbling away at the edge of his conscious—but he couldn't place his finger on what it was.

"I used one of the Jedi ships—but that's not important!" Tarren said hurriedly to Obi-Wan, although his eyes remained fixed on Anakin. "What is is that the Bothan tricked me into giving her the keys, and she opened the doors! She's gone mad, and I came to get you before she hurt herself or someone else!"

"Carra's done _what_?" Obi-Wan cried out, springing to his feet instantly. Feeling worry twist his stomach into a noose, he said, "We have to return to the Temple this instant. Come, Tarren." He reached out to put a hand on Tarren's shoulder, intent on guiding the boy toward Anakin's ship and fixing this fiasco.

Tarren gave him an angelic grin, his hand shifting nearly imperceptibly beneath his cloak.

But Tarren's triumphant face froze, the lightsaber that had sprung to his hands falling onto the grassy ground with a dull _thud_. A red lightsaber blade protruded from his stomach, sizzling angrily in its hunger to devour more flesh. He slid off it, falling face first—_thuddump_—into the grass before Obi-Wan's feet. Obi-Wan gave a cry of dismay and knelt by Tarren's prone form. Checking his jugular, he felt no pulse.

Tarren was dead.

He drew his hand away, and noted faintly that it was shaking. He tried to stop it with the other hand, but that one too had the same problem. He didn't see why they would be acting this way. There was no reason. He'd seen death before—_years ago_—and it'd never affected him like this before—_don't think of the first time, don't think of the first time_—and he didn't see why it should affect him like this now—_how many of those dead had been _children_, children he'd sworn to watch and protect, and somehow came to love?_

When he heard another blade hiss on, his head jerked up. His head felt too big and his neck too thin—if he weren't careful, the precariously balanced thing would fall off. Skraith stood in front of him, two ends of a duel-bladed lightsaber shadowing his face with a garish red light. His ruby scales shone blood red in that light, as if his scales were bleeding for his crimes because Tarren's scorched body could not. His eyes were unreadable green orbs of murky swamp water.

There was only one reasonable, valid explanation for all this. It was a dream, a horrible, nasty, gruesome dream—a nightmare. A nightmare where children murdered children—his family killing one another—and he'd wake up eventually. If he breathed shallowly…in out in out…and didn't do anything, it'd play itself out and then go away. He felt like a helpless, irrational child again—afraid of the dark, but more afraid of getting out of bed to turn on the light.

"Massster Kenobi," he hissed. He bowed to Obi-Wan, but made no motion to deactivate his lightsaber.

Obi-Wan didn't even look at him, eyes drifting towards Tarren before shifting quickly away to land elsewhere entirely. On the sky, a bird flittering by, a tree branch swaying. They didn't exist, not really. Talking to them would only make it more real, and he was trying to _wake up_.

"I am sssorry for having intruded upon you, but thisss _fool_"—he spat the word out disdainfully—"wasss trying to kill you. He wasss posssesssed by a Sssith Holocron." Skraith's eyes searched the ground urgently. "I mussst find it. It cannot remain here unprotected… That infant wasss unsssuited for the job you gave him. I had sssuch a hard time keeping a watch on thossse three foolsss…but essspecccially _him_." He snarled, his tongue flicking out with hatred. "_He_ would have dessstroyed the Jedi Temple with his treachery."

His four eyes lighted on the small black pyramid, which rested by the set of keys. "There they are…" He said eagerly as he reached out a clawed hand to grab them. But a blue lightsaber blocked his path, and he was unable to seize the two objects. He hissed out a curse in his native tongue, tightening his hold on his lightsaber as he withdrew his slightly stinging hand.

"Stay back," Anakin said calmly, holding his lightsaber threateningly. "How do I know that I can trust you? You could have been the one with the Sith Holocron, and only pinned the blame on Tarren to deceive us—a Sith would operate that way. I know so."

"You bassstard!" Skraith cried out, his voice full of red rage and black hate. "I'm trying to _sssave_ the Temple! It'sss _you_ who'sss been dessstroying everything! You are a Sssith; you are the lowessst ssscum. You're a demon. A monssster! If you become a threat to the Temple, I won't hesssitate to kill you."

"That doesn't sound very Jedi-like; your choice of lightsaber doesn't convince me of your 'good intentions' either."

"I do my duty. I protect my Massster and my home. What happensss to me in the procccesss doesss not matter."

"If you try to grab that Sith Holocron again, I won't show any mercy." Anakin held his lightsaber firmly in confident hands.

Obi-Wan stared at Anakin's lightsaber. It was the same one that Anakin had used to cut off his legs at Mustafar, but something was different with the hilt… 'He added onto it,' Obi-Wan thought with surprise. He'd never heard of someone modifying a lightsaber; normally, they just created a whole new one. But then again, dreams didn't have to be rational—in fact, were dreams _ever_ rational? Did they ever _truly_ make sense—surely this one didn't.

"I am not afraid of you," Skraith boldly declared. He clutched his lightsaber fiercely, his sharp talons scrabbling against the metal surface and making a scrapping, screeching sound. But his hands told that maybe, just maybe…what he said was not all true.

"You should be afraid of dying," Anakin said grimly.

"Death isss a fear I have conquered!" Skraith roared as he charged Anakin. Anakin easily blocked his strike. Skraith fought with a viciousness and intensity that was unrivaled, but all his raw emotions could not compare to Anakin's refined fighting skills. Although Skraith had shown promise of being a great Jedi fighter, he was no match for Anakin's years of experience and stronger connection to the Force. He lost the battle before it began. Anakin ended the fight quickly by slicing off Skraith's hand with a fluid, decisive flick of his wrist.

Obi-Wan couldn't bear to watch. Even if this was a dream, he couldn't bear to see his younglings being murdered. He let his eyes wander to the side, trying not to see the movements in the corner of his eyes. If he ignored it, it would go away.

The red lightsaber deactivated, and both hand and handle arced across the sky, landing some yards away. The dismembered hand still gripped the lightsaber tightly, sharp nails digging in and piercing the metal—Skraith's final act with the hand, an instinct born of absolute pain, before the searing separation of nerves. It was as if the claw was unwilling to relinquish its hold, valiantly struggling to finish a battle it could not.

"You've lost," Anakin said coldly, his lightsaber aimed at Skraith's heart.

Skraith said nothing, his head tilted up proudly. He was prouder and stronger than his eleven years, and older. He knew there would be no mercy for him, and he would ask for none. Instead, his eyes narrowed as his fingers gave a twitch. The lightsaber underneath Tarren's cooling fingers slid across the grass into his left claw, a hand he had never used in battle before. He activated the blade and raised the green bar awkwardly, a purposeful look in his eyes as he performed his last, desperate attempt—

Anakin blocked the green blade with his blue one, locking their lightsabers together. He flipped a switch on the other end of his long handle.

A beam of red shot out of the other end of the lightsaber, surprising and stabbing Skraith through the chest.

Skraith slumped to his knees, and the only thing holding him up was the lightsaber buried in his chest. He tried to speak to Obi-Wan—who was plucking agitatedly at the hem of his shirt—with his deteriorating voice, "Massster…Obi-Wan…watch out…for…" Coughs overwhelmed him, and he couldn't finish the sentence. His insides were burning up, his lungs becoming charred masses that melted into each other, and a thin trickle of smoke drifted lazily out of his gapping, coughing mouth. The light in his eyes grew dim and died, and the soul departed after a final, painful rasp that rattled his whole body.

Anakin pulled the red blade of his lightsaber out of Skraith, letting the body crumple to the ground.

The opposite blades, red and blue, clashed harshly with each other, illuminating him in both a cold and warm glow, a good and bad light.

Obi-Wan stared down at the two bodies on the ground, fingers still listlessly destroying the fabric. They were dead. His younglings. _It was a dream_. He watched one murder the other, and then witnessed Anakin slaughter the remaining one. _It had to be_. He had sworn to protect them, and he had failed… He had failed…

Was it really a dream? Could he feel this much pain in a dream, feel this much hurt and not wake up screaming?

But he had no time to think, no time to find an answer he might not like. Anakin, with his quick movements and talking and touches, would not allow him to think, and he didn't know if he was grateful or angry or sad. Talking Anakin was asking him, "Are you okay? Don't look at me with those glazed eyes—you don't look like yourself when you do, and that gets me worried." He held Obi-Wan tighter.

"I'm…fine…" Obi-Wan said distantly. Of course he would be, once this dream ended. A little voice in the back of his mind screamed that he was in shock, disbelief; that there was no dream to wake up from—he smothered it, suffocating it until it stopped writhing and died. He didn't try to struggle out of Anakin's grasp.

"Let's go someplace else," Anakin suggested soothingly, leading Obi-Wan away by the shoulders. He stopped Obi-Wan once they came to a different meadow, one death had not tainted. "I'll be right back, Obi, I just need to see something…" Obi-Wan nodded mutely. Why care what happened?

Anakin went back to the meadow and crouched by Skraith's body. Pulling the lightsaber out of his frozen grip—the one still attached to his body—he studied it for a moment. "This has to be the one…that _he_ had," he snarled at the weapon. This had to be Qui-Gon's weapon, the green blade the tall man had once wielded. He remembered the handle, even though he'd only seen it once when he had been nine. Letting it roll out of his hands and onto the ground, he stabbed it down the middle with his red blade. Metal liquefied and scorched the ground, grass shriveling up into twisted black stalks.

"Now there's no evidence of his existence," he said, satisfaction coating his voice. He also ran the Sith Holocron through with his blade. It shattered, and obsidian shards dug into the dead grass. It was as if the earth had opened a gruesome mouth, these black, crooked teeth sticking up sharply with a hunger to devour its two children and digest their bodies—the slow process of decomposing the flesh and completing the cycle of birth and death. He left the broken bodies and machines to the ravenous earth, hurrying back to Obi-Wan.

They did not matter anymore, and Obi-Wan did. Time and nature would dispose of the bodies, and soil and grass would bury what remained.

Obi-Wan was still as he had left him, dazed and confused. His heart went out to Obi-Wan—he looked so lost and forlorn, so sad. Anakin couldn't stand it. When he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan, he didn't even protest. It was like he had disappeared to someplace within himself that Anakin couldn't follow to. The man was wide-awake and dreaming. "Obi-Wan…are you there?"

"Yes, but I don't want to be. Maybe I'm even not," came the monotonous answer with a mirthless chuckle, which turned into a gasp that was almost a sob. Obi-Wan weakly tried to shrug Anakin's arms off his shoulders; but they were heavy and unmoving. "Please let go of me," he said tiredly, cupping his head in his hands, not even having the energy to cry.

Anakin only hugged him harder and said, "No, I won't. I haven't had contact with you in the slightest way for so long; I've respected your wishes for physical distance. But I can't let this go on any longer. I love you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I've loved you for so long that I can't think of what I was like before this feeling. And you've always pushed me away. As a Padawan, as a friend…you always pushed me away. But you can't push now." Anakin strengthen his hold, wrapping both his body and mind around Obi-Wan, creating a protective blanket. "I'm holding on too tightly for that. I won't let you."

The Force condensed in the area, and Obi-Wan's head felt painfully large from the pressure increasing in his ears—either his ears or his head had to pop, but one way or another he had to release this build up. His limbs felt like he was swimming in it and his lungs inhaling it. There was just too much of it and it was too dark—and was this Anakin's doing? He couldn't tell. The pressure in his head kept him from thinking much of anything, except how _nice_ it'd be if it were gone.

Obi-Wan, disoriented, said, "But—" He suddenly stopped whatever he was going to say, mouth snapping shut. He closed his eyes and slumped into Anakin, giving up. He felt too confused right now, and thinking hurt.

Anakin kissed his cheek, begging, "Please, Obi, I need this. And you need this." He said this firmly, believing the words he spoke.

"I need this?" Obi-Wan asked skeptically.

"Yes, you do," he said convincingly. "You always try to carry everything on your own shoulders…just let me take some of the burden. Share your life with me; I've been trying to share mine with you for so long. Don't fight this anymore." Anakin kissed him briefly on the lips, and he met no resistance. "This is right. This is something we have to take while we still can."

He kissed Obi-Wan harder, breaking away only to mummer, "Relax." He pushed Obi-Wan down onto the soft, fertile grass, his arms still wrapped around Obi-Wan's unmoving body. "Everything's all right—I'll make sure of that." He smattered his cheek with butterfly kisses until he hit his lips. He whispered, breathing, onto Obi-Wan's lips, "I love you so much. Say that you love me—please, I need to hear that you feel the same way."

Obi-Wan was still in shock; he didn't know what to think or say. But Anakin was forceful, and he couldn't seem to argue. His tongue and mind were too thick for him to do so. The only thing filling his head was Anakin's words. This comfort did feel right; why had he fought Anakin so resiliently before? "I feel the same way." Repeating was so much easier than thinking—not thinking made the buzzing pressure recede, and he couldn't take the compression inside his skull.

"Say it," Anakin insisted. "Say that you love me."

"I love you," Obi-Wan repeated in a dazed voice.

Grinning happily, Anakin kissed him gently before saying, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and then all of eternity. You'll marry me?" He tugged at the ring hanging from Obi-Wan's neck, showing that this was the ring he meant to use, had always planned on using.

"I'll marry you," he agreed.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Anakin murmured as he kissed down Obi-Wan's jaw line, getting to his neck. His fingers slid urgently under his shirt, ten digits—five warm, five cold—splaying themselves over his body boldly. Settling all his weight on Obi-Wan, Anakin's kisses grew more burning, more passionate. His fingers became more needy, slinking farther and farther down. His body crushed Obi-Wan's.

Obi-Wan remained passive, smiling slightly with a distant look in his eyes. He said in agreement, "You love me, you love me, you love me."

Anakin laughed and Eskimo kissed his nose. "And you love me."

"And I love you," Obi-Wan hummed as he began to feverishly kiss Anakin back.


	14. Mourning

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block: **Cutting by **StarryGazer**. It's a Getbackers fic that's rated M and has implied yaoi. I really like this. Akabane is a pretty dark and twisted character, and StarryGazer captures that beautifully. I love her choice of words. And then _what_ she writes…you really get a good look at the inner workings of Akabane. There's a lot of psychological depth to this fic, and I find it morbidly fascinating.

Most of you could see that _something_ was off about the ending of Chapter Thirteen… I realized that perhaps I was a little _too_ subtle in the first version, so when I reposted it I made things (symptoms, you could almost call them) a little more blatant. Not that I'm going to outright tell you, of course. Where's the fun in that? ;) However, if you're still a little clueless, then look back a couple chapters and see if anything strikes a nerve.

The reviews were great, and I thank you for them. Honesty is good, so if you see something you don't like, please tell me. And if it's something that seems a little off to me too, I'll try to fix it. Of course, I also love hearing about what you like. Being told both sides gives me a feel of what I should keep doing, and what I need to improve on. And, if you would be so kind, could you also tell me what you think happened at the end of Chapter Thirteen? I want to see if you guys understand what happened to Obi-Wan, or if I need to bury a few more clues around my story. Some of you, from your reviews, all ready know what's going on, and I commend you for the sharp thinking.

**Page Amount: **5

**Word Count: **4,037

Started 8-3-05 and finished 8-4-05

Listening to: Evanescence: Fallen & silence (CD player ran out of batteries, and I'm too lazy to get more right now)

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Fourteen**: Mourning_

"Morning, love," Anakin said as he kissed Obi-Wan's forehead. Obi-Wan mumbled a response and tried to burrow farther into the covers. "All right, I'll give you a couple more minutes. But you're going to need to get up soon. Mondays wait for no one. So if you want breakfast before we head over to the Temple, you're going to have to get ready fast. I'll be back in a bit to properly wake you up." Anakin left quietly, a soft, joyful laugh following him out.

Obi-Wan snuggled back into the bed, trying to return to sleep. But then something clicked in his mind and jolted him awake. Yesterday. He tried to force himself to remember all the details, but all he could recall were blurred images and Anakin's hypnotic voice.

'I went temporarily insane,' Obi-Wan decided, 'due to the death of Tarren and Skraith.'

That thought brought more fresh wounds to his notice.

And instantly he knew that all that—all yesterday—had not been a nightmare conjured up by his mind. It had been a…surreal reality. Even now he felt disturbingly detached from the truth, and he knew intellectually that that was mentally unhealthy, but his emotions were too drained for him to care much. Besides, it made everything hurt less, like taking painkillers to numb the throbbing of a stubbed toe.

But, like with painkillers, it was not a question of if the pain was still there or not; it was a question of how _well_ the pain was being blocked from the central nervous system. And Obi-Wan could not entirely isolate himself from the hurt.

His Padawans were dead…both killed by lightsaber wounds to the torso. He couldn't stop berating himself—he should have foreseen these events, found out a way to stop them. Any warning the Force had been trying to give him had been forgotten in his worry of the present. He had been so focused on finding information on the Empire that he had forgotten that his true mission was to protect the Jedi. It didn't mattered if he brought down the Empire, as long as the Jedi survived. Just as he had told Tarren—it hurt just thinking of his name—so long ago, it was the difference between attacking the enemy and shielding the innocent.

He had placed his need to redeem himself before the health of the Jedi as a whole. And he'd done it without thought, not even pausing to wonder if he was doing something wrong.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have overlooked so many little, obvious signs?

What hurt the most was that _he_ wasn't the one to pay for his mistakes, but Tarren and Skraith.

He struggled to remember everything from yesterday, but at some point his mind just hit a blank wall. Things became hazy, incoherent. And though he felt terrible for thinking it, a small voice inside him admitted that he didn't mind because he didn't want to remember.

All he could extract from his mind were feelings. He felt regret, shame, and a spark of guilty pleasure. He quickly shoved the last emotion down, smothering it and praying that it died quietly. He was able to disperse the regret and shame to the Force, but the gratification clung to him tenaciously no matter how desperately he tried to rid himself of it. It was slick oil on his skin, burrowing into his pores, and he was trying to wash it off with water. Oil and water never mixed.

Deciding to get up before Anakin could 'properly wake him up,' Obi-Wan dragged himself from the bed. With a groan, he realized that he was in _Anakin's_ room, sleeping in _Anakin's_ bed. 'Great, another thing for me to feel repentant about,' he thought.

Using their connected bathroom to get to his room undetected, Obi-Wan dug out random clothes and put them on. By this time he didn't care what he wore; all the outfits were unique and noticeable one way or another, and there was nothing that Obi-Wan could do to dull them. He disliked them all equally—perhaps he would even go as far as to say that he hated them. Gazing into the mirror he decided that yes, he did hate them. He didn't want to look 'stunning' or 'beautiful' or even 'nice.' He wanted to look like a _Jedi_.

As if he could communicate to his inner self through the flat reflection glass, Obi-Wan sighed and sternly looked at his equally serious, two-dimensional doppelganger. He began to talk to himself: "Okay, first thing I have to do is correct this situation. Explain that I hadn't been thinking straight at the time due to grief, and apologize to Anakin for my behavior."

Not that Anakin seemed sorry, but apologizing was a nice way to put some formal distance between them. Obi-Wan would appreciate that very much. He had too much to come to terms with to have that weight on his chest also.

He went into the kitchen, but Anakin wasn't there yet. He decided to try the greenhouse, since that seemed like the second most obvious place to find Anakin. He did find Anakin up there, along with C-3PO. He was about to greet them, but some warning in the Force stopped him. Instead, he chose to hide behind one of the many thick-trunked trees. He waited, watching and listening, a living shadow that barely breathed.

"Master Anakin, sir, please, you must understand that I had no part in this! It was against my will!" C-3PO said in a fretful voice. There was a shrill note of panic in it.

"How can you lie to me like that—and even worse, think that I would believe it? I was generous, because you were an old friend, and gave you all day yesterday to tell me the truth. You refused. Now, you must accept the consequences that entails."

"But sir—my programming—they inserted something that wouldn't let me notify you." C-3PO waved a golden hand. "I was helpless to do anything of the situation. I can only speak of it now because you have destroyed that dreadful device."

"While the listening device might have also been wired to your communication system, limiting what you could speak about, for it to have gotten there in the first place you had to have willingly complied!" Anakin snapped angrily. "There's no possible way they could have entered this building and kidnapped you—and then returned you at a much later period—without me knowing. You had to have voluntarily left. Anything suspicious I would have noticed."

"It's not my fault, Master Anakin, they were very persuasive—oh my," C-3PO said worriedly, body twitching like a golden scarab. "Oh my, oh my."

"_Who_?" Anakin demanded forcefully, taking an intimidating step forward. "_Who_ was persuasive? _Who_ put that device in you?"

"I can't say, sir—the device," C-3PO said faintly.

"The damned device is gone!" Anakin countered sharply. "What you won't tell me is because of _you_, not some mechanism. How could this have happened?" Anakin gritted his teeth, glaring at C-3PO. "I thought I had created the perfect program, yet you still turned on me!"

"Please, sir, just give me a mind wipe, or scan my memories to detract the details yourself. I cannot help you." _Will not_ was the silent statement.

"Goodbye, Threepio, you were a good droid. The best protocol droid I ever had. I shall miss you," Anakin said coldly with a hint of regret. The faint traces of regret were a miasma in the air, and Anakin knew if he didn't breathe shallowly and carefully, he'd choke on it and die.

"Master Anakin, this is absurd!" C-3PO called out, begging, "I have been your faithful companion since you were nine!"

Anakin ignored his pleas, deaf to everything except his internal pain and the hurt of betrayal. He silently ignited his lightsaber, the red blade snarling like a tiger, and slashed C-3PO into impossibly small pieces. The machine components were left smoking on the floor, piled haphazardly on each other. Burnt metal singed the air, giving it an unpleasant, metallic smell. A long tendril of smoke twirled its way up to the glass roof, hitting it and dispersing in the faint morning light.

Anakin nudged the pile with his foot and it toppled, the pieces skittering and screeching across the floor. He watched the head roll towards him and brush against his feet. He said softly, "I see my mistake now. I gave him too much free will." He gently kicked the head away, and it bounced off to find a home elsewhere. Anakin wrapped around himself a gauze of cruel indifference. It was a material he found comfortable to wear.

Obi-Wan hurried back to the kitchen. The interrogation between C-3PO and Anakin was a secret he had stumbled on, and he would be wise to keep what he saw to himself. He was in no hurry for Anakin to find out that he knew; Anakin's actions could range from sly to irrational in a blink of an eye. Obi-Wan pictured Anakin kicking his severed head away, saying sadly in a cold voice 'If only I hadn't given him so much free will.' He shivered.

At least it gave him something else to think about other than—well, _that_.

By the time Anakin entered the kitchen Obi-Wan was already sitting in a chair, drawing circles on the table with his pinkie. As Anakin walked by, he briefly laid a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and said, "Let me get you some tea. The regular, I presume?" Gone was the cold killer who had hacked C-3PO into bits and kicked the head away, replaced in a matter of seconds by this friendly conversationalist.

"Yes please," Obi-Wan mumbled. It felt as if cobwebs were sticking to him where Anakin's fingers had brushed him.

"Still tired from last night, I take it?" Anakin laughed, a knowing look in his friendly eyes. "I hope you wake up more before we leave. Especially since after lessons I need to go to the Galactic Senate building… I was wondering if you'd mind coming along."

Ears perking up at the mention of a trip to the heart of the Empire, he said casually, "I'm fine with it, as long as it doesn't take too long. You know how political procedures bore me—I swear, it takes them half an hour to decide on what to have for breakfast."

"Well, since this involves you, hopefully you won't be too bored," Anakin said slyly.

Obi-Wan swallowed dryly. "It does?" Had his day of execution come? Was Anakin going to dismember and behead him like he had done C-3PO, shaking his head at the mess and saying 'I should have known'? Obi-Wan realized that despite all the horrible events of yesterday, he still wanted to live—he wasn't ready to die yet.

Anakin laughed. "I know you hate politics, but you don't have to look so frightened," he said soothingly, feeling Obi-Wan's small spurt of panic but assuming incorrectly its cause. "I promise I'll protect you from the dull, long-winded speeches politics are so fond of giving. Personally, I don't like them much myself. Having you there will give me an excuse to cut them short, a normally forbidden act that will get you many enemies if you're not careful."

Obi-Wan chuckled nervously. "Yes…well…wouldn't want any enemies…"

"But to tell you a secret, they're the ones terrified of me." Anakin winked. He set Obi-Wan's tea in front of him and said cheerfully, "There you go, just the way you like it. So, what'll it be for breakfast?"

"Whatever you want," Obi-Wan said, deciding that being agreeable would be in his best interest. It didn't sound like Anakin knew about his spying, but he didn't want to do anything that would make Anakin angry. He realized that he should probably save his talk and apology for later; if he survived the trip to the Senate building, that was. Trying to rationalize last night—well, the portions that he could remember—would only infuriate Anakin. The man hated being explained away.

"Hmmm…I feel in the mood for…omelets. Sound good to you?" When Obi-Wan nodded his head, Anakin bustled around the room getting everything ready. "Ham, cheese, tomatoes, green peppers, mushrooms, and black olives like normal?"

"You read my mind," Obi-Wan joked feebly.

Before he knew it Anakin was turning his chair around and putting his hand on Obi-Wan's forehead. He stared Obi-Wan right in the eyes and said with concern, "Are you feeling all right? You don't seem like your normal self."

Obi-Wan said agitatedly, "Well, it's just…you know…" He blushed, flustered and unsure of what plausible excuse he could use. He was such a wreck right now.

"Oh, I understand now." Anakin laughed and kissed him softly on the lips. "This—us—is nothing to feel uncomfortable or guilty about. Don't think of it as a sudden action, but as a slow building up process that took more than decade to reach its resolution. Maybe that'll make your prudish side go away."

"Maybe," Obi-Wan said noncommittally as he swirled his cup of tea. Doing some quick thinking, Obi-Wan added, "Yes, definitely, you're right." He gave Anakin a small smile, which the other man returned. Obi-Wan felt like a minnow in a piranha's tank, and the carnivorous fish was smiling at him with sharp, sharp teeth.

Anakin returned to making breakfast, and Obi-Wan righted his seat. Sipping his hot drink, he decided that it was better to play along with Anakin. He would 'approve' of this relationship, at least until he could think of a nonviolent, nonfatal alternative. It might actually have some advantages—like this trip to the Senate building. He'd never been given this offer before.

Breakfast passed quickly, a blur of laughing children and knowing looks and smiles from Anakin. Obi-Wan had to struggle to be as upbeat as everyone else, but he felt that he managed nicely, considering the mental stress and guilt he was under.

As breakfast slowed down, Anakin said, "We better be off, then. Leia, Luke, you two be good now. Artoo-detoo's here to watch you, but since he's an astromech droid it won't be the same as having a protocol droid."

"But where's Threepio?" Leia asked with a pout. "Sure, he's bothersome and annoying most of the time, and never lets us do what we want, but he's our friend!"

"Threepio malfunctioned this morning, honey, and the damage's not repairable," he explained gently. "While trying to water the plants, some of the water got into his torso plate. It short-circuited his entire body, everything from motor skills to communication. He's in such a bad state that even I can't fix him."

"Can we at least say goodbye to him?" Luke asked sadly, tearing little strips from his napkin and squashing them together.

"I'm sorry. I had to throw him away. He was letting out electrical charges; he had become a hazard, and I didn't want you two to be accidentally hurt. It's sad enough to lose him… If you also got hurt… That would be just too much for me to handle." He cut off all their questions with a raised hand. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing more to say."

Obi-Wan got up from the table, saying, "Then we should be going. Bye you two, and try not to frighten Artoo too much. Remember, he's a little droid and can't take too much excitement." This lightened the mood, and when they left it was to Leia and Luke's giggling and plotting.

"I could kiss you for saving that conversation," Anakin declared, and then did just that. He lingered a moment before pulling back. "I was feeling terrible because of what had happened to Threepio in the first place, and then when you add in the twin's reaction… I almost couldn't take it all at once. You saved my skin."

"Just remember that you owe me one," Obi-Wan said with a small grin he didn't feel. Kissing Anakin was just confusing and horrible and good at the same time—and he didn't want to think about it anymore.

As they were flying towards the Jedi Temple, Anakin asked hesitantly, "Do you mind if we…tell them?"

"Tell who what?" was the question-answer.

"Tell the younglings about you and I." At Obi-Wan's horrified look, Anakin specified, "Not about _everything_. Just that we love each other; that we live together; that we're getting married…those sorts of non-detailed details. I'd rather they learned it from us than someone else."

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably in his seat and remained silent. He quelled the shocked look that threatened to plaster his face. When had he agreed to _marriage_, of all things? Then he thought back to those fuzzy memories and remembered Anakin's persuasive words, _I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and then all of eternity. You'll marry me?_

And he had said _yes_, of all things. God—Force—just, just _God_.

Looking down at his left hand, he saw that his birthday present was currently on his ring finger. He had to have said yes, for it to have gotten there. This certainly made the situation more difficult than he thought…getting out of it might take more effort than a simple 'sorry, but we can't do this.' He knew that Anakin didn't take commitment lightly, and when he did pledge himself to something, he did so seriously. If he thought that Obi-Wan wanted to back down, he wouldn't take the matter very well… Worse case scenario, it could end in bloodshed, even.

"Obi," Anakin said, a touch of impatience and anger hardening his voice because of Obi-Wan's prolonged silence, "I won't hide this relationship just because you feel uncomfortable with it. It's like how I won't hide my right hand; I don't care what others think. I won't do anything embarrassing like _kissing_ you in public"—although there was a wistful note to his voice when he said that, much to Obi-Wan's dismay—"but if I want to hold hands with you, I will."

Seeing Anakin's steely gaze, Obi-Wan thought quickly and decided that the added complication of marriage didn't overtly change his plan. "Of course, Anakin. I just wasn't sure if the younglings were ready for this…they are pretty young, you know. They might not understand, or get the wrong ideas…"

"That's why we have to tell them, so they get the _right_ ones. And I'll say it to you once more: call me Ani. There really is no need for formality between us anymore." The smile he gave to Obi-Wan border-lined that of a sedated, smirking cat.

'He certainly loves this new position of power,' Obi-Wan thought glumly. 'I wish he'd stop hinting at it; it's getting on my nerves.' "Sure thing, Ani; I'll try. But if I forget, you have to give me some leeway… It's hard to break old habits."

"But it's even better making new ones." He sent another smirk over to Obi-Wan. Anakin landed the craft and they got out. He stepped close to Obi-Wan, his hand finding Obi-Wan's and intertwining their fingers.

"…Is this really necessary?" Obi-Wan asked helplessly, tugging his hand slightly. His efforts to dislodge his fingers were done in vain.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this, or how good it feels," Anakin replied happily. "So yes, as a matter of fact, it is necessary." Obi-Wan sighed, but said nothing else about it.

"Master Obi-Wan!" Carra shouted as soon as they entered. "Master Obi-Wan, something horrible has ha—" Her eyes zoomed onto their held hands, and her mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise. It would have been funny if the look weren't directed at him.

Trying to draw attention away from it, Obi-Wan asked her, "Is it about Tarren and Skraith?" This was going to be painful to tell. All ready he was feeling familiar stabs of guilt in his chest.

Carra's focus shot right back to his face, and she said in surprise, "Yes, it is! How did you know? Does this mean that you helped Tarren, and he's all better now? And what does Skraith have to do with this?" There was hope shining in her eyes, and she grasped blindly for a positive ending. "Did he help too?"

"…I do not wish to explain more than once. Let's go to the regular meditation room. I'll clarify everything there."

"Yes, Master Obi-Wan. I'll go ahead and see if they're already there; if not, I'll get them right away," she said eagerly. She raced down the hallway, making a sharp right turn and disappearing from view.

Obi-Wan managed to shake his hand from Anakin's when they got to the meditation room. "Let's not give them more than one shock at a time," he said quietly in response to Anakin's angry glance and stiffening stance. "First we deal with the matter pertaining to Tarren and Skraith. You can tell them whatever you like after that…after you give them some time to come to terms with their friends' deaths, of course." Anakin nodded in grudging agreement, and they entered the room as two separate entities.

"Where is Tarren right now? Is he coming back later?" Carra asked hurriedly. "If he's in a hospital, can we send cards?" Everyone else crowded around also, looking at him with different amounts of hope. Only Darrien remained sitting on his meditation pad; Obi-Wan had a hunch that the older boy already realized the truth, and that was the reason why he kept so silent. Darrien's face was marble, all white and cold and unmoving.

"You all should sit down for this." They plunked down hurriedly on their mats. "I will not give you false hope; what I have to tell you is not good news. Tarren and Skraith are dead, killed by lightsaber wounds. I witnessed this, but was unable to stop it." Obi-Wan had to pause for a moment to recollect his feelings. There was a tightening in his chest that made it hard to breathe, and he was feeling a little lightheaded because of it. "They died on Ragoon-6. These are the facts. Dwelling on theories and speculations will do us no good, so I hope that you will accept what I say as the truth and understand that I can give you nothing else."

"…Dead…?" Carra said in a faint, dazed voice. Her stunned expression evolved into confusion and disbelief. "But how is that possible…? I just saw them yesterday… Tarren was possessed, yes, but he was alive. He was _alive_." She shook her head, rubbing roughly at a tear that had involuntarily leaked down her cheek. The Bothan hiccupped, scrubbing her face forcefully. Ki'lya patted her shoulder in a comforting manner, a sad look on her blue face also. He thought he heard her whisper softly, 'Shhh, shhh…it's not like it's your fault, Carra; you didn't do anything.'

Everyone looked shocked. They dealt with their grief silently, by themselves. A tear might have leaked here or there, but it was not acknowledged if it did so. The only people not affected by Tarren and Skraith's deaths (or did not show it) were Lilitaa, who was too young to understand; Anakin, who saw death too often to be disturbed anymore; and Darrien.

The only reason Anakin had to be upset was that Obi-Wan was taking it so hard. He put a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, kneading his fingers into tense muscles in an attempt to express his concern and ease Obi-Wan's. The Jedi shrugged it off and whispered apologetically, "Please don't do that—now is not the time to tell them about us. Give them a day or two to mourn." His voice sounded so sad that Anakin couldn't help but comply, and after that he kept to himself. Though more often than not his gaze lingered on Obi-Wan's face, or his body.

Finally, after enduring minutes of oppressive silence, Obi-Wan said to the younglings, "We will meditate, and give these feelings to the Force."

There was no other solace that he could give them because he could find none himself.


	15. Dawning of a New Era

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block:** Fated Rain by **Tristripe**. This is a Wolf's Rain fic, rated M, and involves yaoi. Tristripe is amazing with paying attention to the details. You really get a feel of who the people are and the environment they are forced to live in. This fic's dark, and does deal with some twisted people (one of Toboe's neighbors is a pedophile). This fic is teeming with so much life and chaos. And I love all the allusions buried within it also. It adds another interesting layer to an already multi-layered story.

I felt sorry when Threepio died…and I'm the one who wrote it! But there is a purpose for everything, and things will be revealed. I love creating hints and adding layers to my story. Anywho, to answer a question, yes, Anakin and Obi-Wan did sleep-sleep together. I'm just not one to write a lemon scene, so I made the whole thing _really_ subtle. I'm more interested in exploring the mental side of a relationship than the physical.

I'm still in shock of how many reviews I got for the last chapter. Really, it's amazing, and I thank each and every one of you! I'm glad that so many people are enjoying my story. I love all your inputs, and I've probably said that too many times already, but I don't think I can say it enough times (if that made any sense). If you see any mistakes, or feel that the characters or plot's getting too loopy, tell me. I'll see if it's something fixable.

**Page Amount: **4

**Word Count: **3,140

Written 8-4-05

Listening to: Authority Zero "Madman" (put new batteries in my headphones. :) )

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Fifteen**: Dawning of a New Era_

They walked towards the mushroom-shaped Senate building, Anakin assured and Obi-Wan apprehensive. The reaction of the younglings weighed heavily on the Jedi's shoulders. He felt that their sorrow was his fault, just as Tarren and Skraith's deaths were. Guilt was an increasingly heavy anchor that he was trying to stay afloat with. Right now, he felt that his head was barely above water.

But no matter how he felt, no matter the pain and sadness and regret he suffered, he did not want to die. He wasn't ready.

If he were to be executed in this building, he would fight to the end. He didn't need a lightsaber to use the Force, and he would try to escape. Thoughts raced through his head at the speed of light particles. He'd been in this building many times before the Empire takeover (and none afterwards), and he went through all the escape routes he could think of. But it was hard to concentrate, as his mind kept drifting from strategies to stay alive to the actual reasons _why_ he wanted to stay alive. He had so many unfinished plans. He wanted to complete the younglings' training, build a new lightsaber, rejoin Yoda and the other Jedi, travel back to the Outer Rim and stop the lawlessness there, have one last heart-to-heart talk with Dex, and, and…there were too many things clamoring in his mind for him to grasp them all. There were so many things he had meant to do and never got around to.

As they walked into the building a dark, tall man—Obi-Wan thought he might vaguely know him—was led away by a small squad of indistinguishable, white-armored Stormtroopers. His tanned, aristocratic face was grave and his hands cuffed together. They passed quickly, and while the man's dark eyes flickered towards him for a nanosecond, he gave no other sign of recognition as he was pushed out of the building at blaster point. Obi-Wan turned his head slightly to watch the small procession load into a waiting vehicle, a slight frown wrinkling his forehead. The man was a dark blob in a sea of sterile, aggressive white. There was just something about that scene that was unsettling…nearly disturbing.

Only after the man was long gone did Obi-Wan remember his name—Organa. He had been one of the politicians close to Padmé, and Obi-Wan could just barely remember her introducing him to Bail Organa once at a charity fundraiser. Both being polite and formal men, their conversation had been polite and formal. Or more to the point, brief. They both lived in different 'social spheres,' and small talk can only fill small spaces, after all.

"Where are they going with Senator Bail Organa?" Obi-Wan asked Anakin quietly as they headed down the hall. He may have only met Organa once, and maybe that wasn't enough to form a good evaluation, but he knew that the man had been a supporter of the Jedi and an acquaintance of Yoda's. Judging from what he had heard of Organa and the friends that he kept, the politic seemed like a virtuous man who placed the people before the government. That was hardly someone who would break the law.

"There is no need for the prefix 'Senator,' as he has been stripped of his political privileges for wrongly abusing them. He has been declared a traitor to the Empire, and has been sentenced as thus," Anakin said dismissingly. He didn't embellish on the statement, and Obi-Wan didn't press for more. He already had an idea of what was going to happen. And it worried him that the government was weeding out the individuals whose intentions were to actually _help_ others.

"This is my wonderful office," Anakin said with a mock flourish of his hand, the action encompassing the drab room. Neutral colors and steel covered everything, and it had the personality of an anonymous gravestone. "It's not much, but it serves its purpose. Modesty before ascension, one may say. Now, before I can talk to you, I have an urgent meeting I must attend. If all goes as planned, it won't take too long, and I'll be back soon." Anakin left in a whirl of dark colors, robes flapping like a mini tornado.

The door, being a diligent guard, snapped to attention with a smart _click_.

Obi-Wan looked around the room, analyzing his surroundings and trying to find possible escape routes. If things went downhill and he needed an exit, he'd only have a split second to use it. He had to prepare ahead. The door was obviously locked and not an option. Unless he were to surprise Anakin and rush him when he first entered. But he didn't think that was a wise decision, since that would bring him within grasping-distance of Anakin.

Or, if he found something strong but skinny, like a paperclip, he could put his lock-picking skills to the test… But that meant starting his escape plan now because it would take some time, and he still wasn't entirely sure if he should run or not. If this turned out to be just a regular visit to the office, then there would be questions he'd have to answer later. And no matter how skillfully he responded, Anakin would remain suspicious and his mission would be in jeopardy from then on out.

Lifting the blinds on one of the windows, Obi-Wan welcomed in the pale, yellow rays of the sinking sun. No bars were on the window (he half-expected to find some, he felt that much like a prisoner), but the drop down was several stories too high for him to jump and survive…twenty-five stories too high, actually. He might live if he had the fortune of landing on a speeder passing by. Then he'd only have several broken bones to contend with, and perhaps a punctured lung, as he tried to run away. No, once again it was a plan that relied too much on luck. He had to find another route out, one that was nearly foolproof and could be used in a split second at the first sign of danger.

He looked around the room, hoping to find some obvious secret passageway. No such luck. He returned to his seat, cradling his head in his hands as he racked his brain for ideas.

He was stumped.

It turned out that he had a little less than an hour to think of his impending doom. He spent most of it watching the minute hand of a clock tick in a clockwise direction. Every time he saw the thick, long and black arm click down, he felt as if a guillotine was inching towards his neck. _Tick, tick, tick, tick_, the clock told him smugly, shaking its slender, second-hand at him. The noise bothered him.

Fifty-five minutes from his exit, or 3,300 ticks later, Anakin entered again, looking slightly more rumpled but decidedly more satisfied. One of his sleeves was smoking, and he proceeded to pat it out as he said cheerfully, "Unfortunately, the Chancellor has died of a heart attack. As second command of the Empire, I now am in control. While this event was unforeseen and leaves the Empire in distress, I must uphold my duty and carry on the Chancellor's great schemes for the Empire. It's the least I can do for him."

He grinned, finally extinguishing the smoking sleeve.

"This is…unsuspected," Obi-Wan said truthfully. "I didn't realize that you had come here for the exact purpose of—" Anakin put a slim finger on his mouth, effectively cutting him off.

Smiling, he said mysteriously, "I sensed a disturbance in the Force, is all, and arrived to see the Chancellor die. My timing was pure luck. The Empire is fortunate that I am willing and adequate enough for the responsibility of becoming Emperor. I will improve what has already been done; I will better the Empire. We have an emergency conference in about an hour. That gives me ample time to present my offer to you."

"And just what is that?" Obi-Wan asked as Anakin took the seat right by him. He felt more curious than nervous, now that he knew the execution had not been meant for _him_.

Anakin leaned in and said seriously, "I want you to become my main advisor. During the Clone Wars you were called the Negotiator for a reason; I'd like you to use those skills for me."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't know, Anakin—"

"Ani," Anakin interjected softly.

"Ani. I've never gotten along with politics before, and I don't think I'd like to become actively involved with them. I am busy already, and have other responsibilities. I can't abandon those."

"You can't refuse this offer…can't you see the benefits? You'll become _main advisor_. I know that you have no interest in power, but think of the _influence_ you'll have. Remember our conversation at the zoo a couple months ago? About my new education laws? You pointed out some after-effects of my actions that I had missed. If you become my advisor, you can help me avoid situations like that. I want to improve this galaxy, and I want you by my side to help me."

"I don't know, Ani…" Although it was a tempting offer, he didn't know if he wanted to owe his allegiances, even superficially, to the Empire.

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Offers like this don't happen everyday…you could say that you were simply in the right place at the right time, but I believe it's something more. You were meant to do this. You must decide now; throw away this pristine opportunity or take this power and use it for good." Anakin said encouragingly, "Improve the galaxy with it, destroy the corruption still lurking in the Senate, save the lives of countless people. You'll have no limits to what you can do."

Obi-Wan contemplated the Sith's words.

"I see that you're still thinking," Anakin said kindly. "How about I give you a suggestion of what I plan on doing, just to show you that my words are genuine? I want to outlaw slavery, starting with Tatooine. Slowly, I'll make slavery illegal in every star system. And before anyone realizes it slavery will be banned in the entire galaxy! Help back me with this decision—become an important part of the Empire and throw your weight in with me. If we both press for it, I know this bill will pass. And that's just the beginning. Think of the possibilities!"

Accepting this offer would serve three purposes, Obi-Wan thought. It would secure Anakin's confidence in him, give him a chance to liberate slaves and help others in equal need, and allow him to sneak around the Senate building without looking suspicious. "I'll do it." Looking at it in that light, how else could he reply?

Anakin comradely clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder. "I knew you'd see the light. Now that we're sharing the rest of our lives together officially, I wanted to also include you in my business life, since I'm already a part of yours. This opportunity was very fortunate, wasn't it?"

"Indeed, it was," Obi-Wan agreed. 'Fortunate' did not begin to describe it.

"Now, before the conference starts, we must look more presentable. I have extra clothes here for myself, and lucky for you I have a spare outfit normally worn by the main advisor…it got dropped off here by mistake weeks ago and I just never got around to moving it…" Anakin pulled the outfits out of a durasteel strongbox set in the back of the room.

"Chance and luck seem to favor you. Quite a combination," Obi-Wan said mildly as he took off his outer clothing to slide into the outfit Anakin gave him. He felt Anakin's eyes on him as he did so, and glanced up quickly to see that his comment had earned him that disquieting sidelong look. It made him feel uncomfortable, and he quickened the process of putting on the formal garments. He felt naked enough as it was with that look, and it didn't help when he was almost literally half-naked.

"I like to think of myself as a fortunate man." Anakin replaced his scorched and shredded tunic and robe with the new ones, which were identical, down to the last detail, to the first pair. "But I also like to think of myself as well-prepared. For what are opportunities but luck coupled with canniness?" He glanced at the clock on the wall. "It seems we still have about half an hour until our meeting… We should be there early, so it's really more like fifteen minutes."

"Then we shall have to wait," Obi-Wan concluded.

Anakin gracefully walked over to him. Sliding his fingers into Obi-Wan's hair and placing a kiss on his lips, he said slyly, "I can think of something better that we can do." He pulled Obi-Wan to his body and kissed him again. Obi-Wan didn't fight, or entirely hate, the sensation, but he kept his participation to a minimum (enough to not draw suspicion, but at the same time not enough to elicit a more heated response). He kept the reason why he was doing this in his mind the whole time, repeating it like a mantra or prayer.

_My goal is to complete the mission and insure the survival of the Jedi. My goal is to complete the mission and insure the survival of the Jedi. My goal—_

At that moment Anakin delved his tongue into Obi-Wan's mouth, and Obi-Wan had to stifle the urge to moan. Force, he felt horrible that a part of him actually liked this. Which dampened the pleasure, thankfully.

After ten minutes of kissing and a bit of heavy petting (Obi-Wan was thankful that it proceeded no further than that), Anakin stopped, breathing heavily. "Sorry about that… It's just that I'm so happy right now, and you're here, and well… I can't help but be a little affectionate towards you." He smiled, straightening his tunic before doing the same to Obi-Wan's, his hands lingering a bit. "Besides, you looked like you needed some comfort after what happened at the Temple, and I don't know how else to show you my love." He glanced at the clock. "We should start heading to the Senate conference room."

Anakin strolled the halls with an assurance and power that Obi-Wan only wished he could mimic. He felt extremely out of place in this madhouse for politics. He didn't know how Anakin managed to give the appearance of belonging.

They walked down a hallway to the small room. It held the podium Chancellor Palpatine had sat in for so much of his reign, slowly amassing power like a wine connoisseur hoarding fine vintages, each star system a rare bottle. Anakin stepped onto it, and motioned for Obi-Wan to stand at his right side. Anakin looked serene, even eager. "I've wanted to stand on this thing for so long," he admitted to Obi-Wan. "I've waited for this moment for a very, very long time." He wiped his hands on his legs, but it was more of an impatient gesture than a nervous habit as his hands were dry.

"I must confess that I do not share your excitement," Obi-Wan said dryly. "To be the focus of all the Senators in the galaxy, all of them scrutinizing me with their beady eyes as they look down from their elevated seats…hardly what I would call a good time."

"Don't worry. You won't have to say a thing. You're here to make them aware of your presence, so that when we announce later that you're my main advisor they can put a face to the name. Since I'm the one giving the speech, most of their focus will be on me. Just stand there looking grave and serious, and they'll instantly like you. And if they don't, then I'll take care of them for you. Does that sound good to you?"

"Me watching from a distance sounds even better," Obi-Wan chuckled, nervously straightening his stiff, dark burgundy robe.

A light blipped on the control system of the podium, and Anakin said, "It's time. Everyone's gathered." He pressed a couple buttons, and the platform started to rise through a recently opened gap in the ceiling. Obi-Wan tried to keep still as they entered into the enormous dome where democracy had been birthed and murdered. It was the room where Chancellor Palpatine had sacrificed democracy on the altar of tyranny and where Anakin, already having made his blood sacrifice, planned to make the monster his own.

"Senators of the Imperial Senate," Anakin said in a commanding voice, a hidden microphone in the stand making his words clear to even those sitting farthest away. "I come to you to talk of grave matters. The Chancellor has died, overworking himself to the point of a heart attack." The senate broke into hushed mumbles, and the droning and constant movement resembled a hive of bees. Anakin let them go on for a few seconds before raising a hand, calling for silence. He received it instantly. "He died serving this government, building it up to what it is today. But the building will not end with him," he said strongly as his voice rose, "The Empire will continue to grow stronger. The old emperor has died, and I willingly, as his second in command, step up to take the responsibilities he has left behind. With a new emperor, will come a new era.

"You are witnessing the dawning of that new era! An age of strength, growth, prosperity and wealth!" Anakin raised his hands, and it seemed as if he not only encompassed the chamber with them, but the entire galaxy and beyond. His outstretched fingers spoke of the faith of believing that limits did not exist. People leaned forward in their seats, drawn to his magnetic personality and passion, to his good looks and strength. "With your loyalty, I will bring this vision to life. The galaxy will be unified under one order, an order of peace, invincibility, and reason! An order that is the Empire!"

His speech was met with animated cheers and claps. The Senate as a whole got to their feet, giving him a standing ovation. Camera droids hovered about him, capturing and digitalizing the moment. The floating machines with their glass eyes whirled around him in dizzying circles, the noise of cheers and machinery humming bounced off rounded walls, and lights flashed spontaneously as picture after picture brutally grasped to contain the moment. There was a mad frenzy of noise and movement around him, a living hurricane, and he was the calm eye of its focus. Upwards and upwards it spiraled, as if it could never come down—.

He smiled.

The Empire was his.


	16. The Question of Communication

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books. 

**Writer's Block:** Double Helix by **alchemy dream**. This is a Star Wars fic rated M, involves slash (Ani/Obi), and is AU. Alchemy dream is a wonderful writer. She has a large vocabulary, and I love seeing unique words scattered here and there! Even in the first paragraph there were two words that are uncommon, and which I love: 'alizarin' and 'zephyr.' The characters are well-developed and you really get a feel of who they are. This is a very enjoyable read. It only has three chapters right now, and the major plot hasn't been touched on yet, but I'm hoping alchemy dream gets a new chapter out soon (hinthint).

I'm a real sucker for unique words… I'll freely admit it. That's part of the reason why I like reading older classics; they use such great words. I'm currently reading Dracula, and my favorite word from it is 'saturnine.' But 'zoöphagous' is a close second…

Sorry about the last chapter being so short. It had some pretty important stuff in it, but it was just one of those chapters that you can't really lengthen too much, or else it loses its meaning or impact. I'm glad you found the chapter funny. I try to add a little humor in it here and there. Thank you for the reviews, and I hope you continue to enjoy yourself. If you find any mistakes, corrections are loved.

**Page Amount:** 7 

**Word Count: **5,680

Written 8-4-05

Listening to: frou frou "shh"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Sixteen**: The Question of Communication_

Here he was, wide-awake in the middle of night and unable to fall back asleep. And it was all because of that nightmare…again. It had almost become habit, although he hated to use the word in such context, to wake up shivering and sweating.

It was dark outside his window; it was not pleasant to be jolted from sleep only to be greeted by the absolute blackness of night. There was barely any transition from the two atmospheres, from his inner darkness to the outer. He didn't want to remember…he didn't want the gruesome form of rotting death to visit him in dreams… It wasn't his fault that they had died. He hadn't killed them himself; he'd only watched, helpless to act as other, darker forces swept over him and destroyed everything. His clutched the blankets in his hand, drawing them up to rest at his chin. His faint breathing barely dented the thick fabric.

It wasn't his fault. How could he have known?

What was the purpose of continuing now? He shut his eyes tightly, forcing his breath to remain calm and steady. Advice given to him by a man now dead filtered into his mind, unwanted but needed. He had to accept death; it was a natural process of life…everyone died, eventually. Learn to let go.

The hands gripping the blankets loosened. Though his mind was ravaged with grief and guilt, a small spark flickered in the dark recesses of his soul.

There was hope yet. There was still something that he had to do, a promise he had made to the man that was not yet fulfilled.

* * *

Obi-Wan entered the Temple alone, yawning at the earliness of the morning. It had only been five standard days since Anakin had become Emperor and made his speech to the Senate, but already the new Emperor was bogged down with work. As an advisor, Obi-Wan didn't have as much work to do. Mainly, as the title blatantly hinted at, he just advised Anakin when he was asked his opinion. So much for having 'grand influence.'

But Obi-Wan was not bitter. In fact, the pros far outweighed the cons as far as he was concerned. The fact that Anakin was kept so busy at the Galactic Empire-Senate building worked to his advantage; three out of the five days Anakin hadn't been able to teach at the Temple. With Anakin not constantly hovering over him, Obi-Wan felt as if he was slowly regaining pieces of his life—not much, but everything mattered when he had so little.

Today was another day where Anakin was too busy to teach. This gave him the perfect opportunity to talk to the younglings without being overheard. Obi-Wan had given the younglings time and space to mourn on their own, but now he had some questions to ask them that couldn't be held off any longer. He wanted to piece together all the parts of the story, and find out exactly what had led up to Tarren and Skraith's deaths. If he could find out what had happened, he could see the telltale signs in the future and prevent a reoccurrence.

It was the least—perhaps _all_—he could do for their departed souls.

He walked into the silent meditation room. It was not quiet because the younglings were already meditating (he had long ago given up on that happening), but because sadness silenced them. The empty pads where Tarren and Skraith should have sat looked forlorn, almost sinister. It was as if they said, with their concave centers and well-worn state, 'any one of you could go next. All it takes is an accident and one second…'

"We will be meditating again. Try to let go of your feelings, disperse them into the Force. It will help some, believe me," he said gently, understanding the source of their sorrows. "Carra, I would like to talk to you."

The Bothan got up nervously, her eyes shifting. "Yes, Master Obi-Wan?" she asked, wiping her damp hands on her tunic. Instead of possessing her normal cat-like fluidity, her movements had all the coordination of a weak-hearted sparrow.

"If we could converse out in the hallway, please…" He motioned towards the door. "So we don't disturb those who are meditating."

"Right. Of course." She smiled shakily, dragging her feet as she walked out into the hall. As soon as the door shut her mouth began to spew fearful words, "You know that I didn't mean for that to happen, don't you? I didn't think we would find something so—" She cut herself off, shaking her head as if to knock the memories from it like a swimmer with water-clogged ears. "It was something dark. It made me feel like—like, in that moment, nothing good could ever exist again."

"I'm not here to accuse you, Carra. I am simply trying to find the facts, just as you are," Obi-Wan said soothingly. The Bothan was nearly jumping out of her skin, and he knew that in her present state she might clam up if he pushed her for information. He had to gently coax out what she knew. "I need to have knowledge of everything that happened, so that I can prevent it from occurring again in the future. Do you understand why it is imperative that you tell me the truth?"

Carra nodded her head, eyes watching Obi-Wan warily. "Yeah… I don't want _it_ to happen again either…"

"Try starting at the beginning," Obi-Wan suggested, careful to keep his voice level and calm. "How did this all start?"

"I… I found out that…Tarren"—she struggled over the name, and only with effort did it fall from her numb lips—"had a set of six keys with him. I'm ashamed of it now, but I won't lie to you: I snuck into his room to find them. But I didn't know what they opened, so I couldn't just take them and use them. I had a conversation with Darrien a little bit after that, and he told me how he sensed that you and Tarren had talked before your leaving. That made me certain that the keys opened something important. I pressed Tarren," she admitted guiltily, "I pushed him until he agreed to open one door out of six…"

She suddenly stopped talking, her eyes gaining a distant look as they seemed to sink farther into her face. Obi-Wan noted, from the dark bags under her eyes, that she hadn't been getting much sleep. "Which of the six doors did he open?" Obi-Wan asked gently, wanting her to continue on.

"The one with the wooden swords." She barked a laugh, and it was as short and callous as a donkey braying, holding nothing akin to humor. "He opened the wooden sword closet and said they were all like that. I believed him, too; I thought that I had wasted all my time on wooden swords. I never thought that Tarren could be that tricky." She started to giggle, growing hysterical. "He almost tricked me. _Me_, of all people." Her giggles quieted down to hiccups, her face quickly growing somber again.

She said quietly, "But he wasn't as experienced as I am with deception. He started out strong, but he couldn't go through with it. I started to cry—I don't even know if it was real or fake, but I was so _disappointed_—and he told me that he had lied. That he'd never opened the other closets."

Smiling wistfully, she reminisced, "The first three were wonderful surprises. Everything that I had hoped for. We found lightsabers owned by great Jedi, some that I recognized but most that I didn't…and the next one held Jedi outfits. I said they were all like yours, and then Tarren held up a four-sleeved one. That made me laugh." She smiled, eyes growing more distant, the gold melting to a dull bronze. "The next storage closet was stacked with cubes. They gave off such a wonderful feeling. With them surrounding us, I felt at peace. Like nothing wrong could happen…it was like floating on clouds…in water…space…" She closed her eyes.

"And the next one?" Obi-Wan said quietly, barely breaking through Carra's reverie.

Her eyes snapped open as if he had physically slapped her. "There were pyramids," she whispered, shuffling closer to Obi-Wan, seeking comfort. "Stacks and stacks of them, just like the cubes. But they were black and sinister. Even with the cubes surrounding me, I felt this wave of…of death and murder. Darkness. If I didn't have the cubes protecting me, I'm sure that I would have been possessed also. But Tarren…he had gotten up to open the closet…and when he turned to me and smiled this sick smile… I knew that Tarren wasn't really there. That thing was something else." She drew in a hissing breath.

"I ran out as fast as I could. I found Darrien and Skraith first. Darrien had known about the keys—from that one time we had talked and exchanged information—and I thought that he could help. When I mentioned the keys, Skraith ran out of the room. I'm sure Darrien would have followed, but I was just so distraught that I clung to him and he couldn't move. Now I'm glad that I held him down. If—if three of them had…died…" She tried and failed to swallow the knot in her throat that threatened to squeeze off her airway.

"What happened after that?"

"Nothing. After that I was as clueless as everyone else as to what happened to Tarren and Skraith. I stayed with Darrien, and he tried to calm me down." Carra smiled wearily, the corners of her mouth barely lifting up. "Is there anything more you need to ask of me?"

"No, you've been a great help and gave me some insight. Thank you, Carra."

"It was all an accident. A horrible nightmare of an accident," Carra whispered, "How could an innocent curiosity lead to something so evil?"

"There is no real explanation for such evils, no phrase that can wittily sum up such horrible happenings in a single clichéic sentence." Obi-Wan could not give her the comfort she wanted; only by facing herself could she could come to terms with what she had done. While accidental, she had caused this. Only now was she becoming aware of the consequences of her actions, of her insatiable habit of digging too deep into life's mysteries. Before the damage had been too little to notice: a friend angry for a week, maybe extra hours of training. Now it was too large to ignore. "You must accept responsibility, Carra."

She shook her head vehemently. "I didn't kill Tarr—him."

"No, but you played a part in what led up to Tarren's execution. The murder doesn't hang on your head, but you must accept that you were involved, and partially responsible, for his death."

She stared at him, eyes wide around red rims and black bags. "I didn't mean to," she whispered imperceptibly, "He was my friend."

"Then, as a friend, you must accept what happened and move on. Learn from this lesson, and you will not have to repeat it. Ignore it, and the pain will grow worse day by day, and you will be a fool for it."

"You're not going to send me to jail?" She asked, bewildered.

Obi-Wan sighed. "You are not the true culprit of the crime. The person who killed Tarren is dead, and cannot be punished for his actions. You do not deserve to go to jail at such a young age for what you accidentally allowed to happen. You are not the murderer, but an ignorant accomplice."

"Who killed—" She stopped herself from asking the question. Tiredly, she said, "Never mind. I don't want to know anything anymore. No more answers."

Obi-Wan nodded, sympathy in his eyes. "You may return to class, then, and begin your meditation. Please tell Darrien to come out; I would like to talk to him." He thought of everything he had just learned. Carra had mentioned that she'd talked briefly to Darrien; perhaps he would know more. And since he wasn't directly connected to the events, he might have a clearer perspective than Carra.

"You wish to speak with me?" Darrien asked quietly. Obi-Wan was a little surprised at the sudden noise, but tried not to show it. The dark-haired boy had been so silent that Obi-Wan hadn't realized that he was there until he had spoken. Darrien made all the noises of a ghost walking.

"Yes, I do." Obi-Wan stared straight into Darrien's unfaltering dark brown eyes. "I want to know what you know about Tarren and Skraith's murder."

Darrien paused for a moment, thinking. He was not one to speak without great consideration and careful selection of words. "Not much…there was that one conversation with Carra months ago, where she asked me what I knew about Tarren and you. She told me about the keys, but I didn't think she'd really find anything important with them. I just assumed it was another one of her silly games. The next time that I even thought about the keys or what she said was when she came bursting into my room. She was such a wreck that I couldn't understand anything clearly. Skraith raced off, and I was left trying to comfort her and figure out just what was going on."

Obi-Wan nodded. It was just as Carra had said—not that he hadn't expected their stories to match up, but he wanted to make sure there was no gaps between events. Because he knew Darrien wouldn't become hysterical if he asked questions that had more to do with speculation than fact, he inquired, "Was Skraith also acting odd before all this? Since you two are close, did you notice anything different?"

"Not to the extent which you are looking for…" he said slowly, eyes flickering off to the side as he dredged up dusty memories in his mind and searched for new meaning within them, "But when I think of it, he did seem more testy. And sometimes he would go away for short periods of time before returning. I didn't think anything of it then, but maybe he was following Tarren and finding out where the closets were."

"What do you think of this entire situation?" Obi-Wan asked. Maybe someone else's opinion would enlighten him.

"…Tarren didn't mean to do anything wrong, but he did. He and Carra made a horrible mistake. Maybe the Sith Holocrons had already influenced his mind a little, and made him more willing to open the storage closets. And Skraith…I think the Sith Holocrons might have been influencing him also. That was why he wanted the keys for himself and went racing after Tarren."

"I suspected something along the same line might have happened." So their thinking was close to the same…while that didn't make his speculation an absolute truth, it did make his idea of what had happened seem more plausible. He remembered something Skraith had said before he died. "There's something else I want to get your opinion on."

"I will answer it to the best of my abilities, Master Obi-Wan."

"Skraith mentioned keeping an eye on _three_ people. We can deduce that two of them were Tarren and Carra—but who could the third person be?"

Darrien was silent. It was obvious to see that he was thinking very quickly. "I…think…" he started out slowly, obviously still trying to figure out his thoughts even as he spoke, "that he was talking about Darth Vader." The end part he said quickly, decisively. He went on to say, "It would make sense, when you think about. If Skraith was worried about people who might interfere, then Tarren, Carra, and Darth Vader would be the most obvious people to watch out for. Tarren because he had the keys, Carra because she was searching for the closets, and Darth Vader because…well, he's Darth Vader." His faint smile was mirthless. "He's an outsider and murderer; the enemy, the oppressor."

Obi-Wan nodded, unsettled, for some reason beyond his comprehension, by what Darrien had said.

"Thank you, Darrien. You may return to class." Darrien bowed, then left Obi-Wan alone to his thoughts. He didn't have much time to sort out everything he'd just heard, as his comlink buzzed urgently just minutes afterwards.

Excited, Obi-Wan went into a nearby, empty meditation room. He turned on the device and Yoda appeared. "Yoda!" he exclaimed happily. After so many months of not seeing his friend, it was good to be in contact with him again.

Yoda looked tired. He leaned heavily on his gimer stick. "Greetings, Obi-Wan," he said. "News I have to tell you; advice as well."

"What is it?" Obi-Wan asked, concerned. With the way Yoda looked, it couldn't be good. The small Jedi's outfit was bedraggled, his claws more wizened than normal, and his face sagging, carrying alert but worn-out eyes.

"Found our spy was, that we placed in with the clone troopers. Executed, she was." Yoda closed his eyes, his entire face expressing his heavy sorrow.

"Who was she?" Obi-Wan asked worriedly. Even though he almost feared having an answer, he had to know who had been sent. At the least, he could send his prayers to the brave Jedi's departed soul. "Did I know her?" It felt like death was playing too large a role in life these days.

"Know her you should, though an old acquaintance she was. Darra Thel-Tanis, her name was. Friends she used to be with Darth Vader, when they were but Padawans. That Darth Vader was going to come and inspect the troops, her last message told us five days ago. Her death I felt the next day. Killed, I fear, by Darth Vader."

He did vaguely remember a young, spry and lively girl. Soara Antana had been her Master. She and Anakin had been on many missions together when two or more Master-Padawan teams were needed. He recalled them working well together and becoming steadfast friends. And now, for this to happen…

"That's terrible," he said. What he said wasn't only about Darra's death, which was horrible in itself, but also about the fact that Anakin had cold-bloodedly killed an old friend of his. It was calculating and malicious. It was not a trait he remembered Anakin possessing when he was a child—it was not a trait he saw Anakin teaching his children as he played with them.

"All I have to tell you, that is not," Yoda went on. "Our inside spy, found he was and murdered."

Obi-Wan thought back to several days ago; of Bail Organa being pushed out of the building at gunpoint. "Are you talking about Bail Organa? I saw him being taken out of the Senate building the day Skywalker became Emperor."

"Sad it is about Organa, but our infiltrator he was not. Accused of treason Organa was when he tried to bring back democracy. Died he did for his beliefs. Searched he did for freedom, and found it he finally did, although not the sort he looked for. A good friend he was, and his loss felt deeply." Yoda shook his head sadly. "No, someone else our spy was. Know who it is you do; only think you must to find the answer."

Obi-Wan paused, thoughts going through his mind on a conveyor belt as he inspected each one for oddities. Finally, as events clicked in his head, he exclaimed in disbelief, "_Threepio_?"

"Yes, Threepio, our spy was. Decided he did that to best serve his master, he must make him see the errors of his ways."

"But how is that possible? How could Threepio think that when he was clearly programmed against betraying his master?"

"Betray his master he did not." Yoda rapped his gimer stick on the ground emphatically. "Tried to help, he did, and that help Darth Vader spurned. Surprised, you are, hmmm? Think droids can, and have morals. Simply hindered by programs and modulators, it is. Fearful of creating something too likely to themselves, people are, and so warp it they must."

"…I see…" he semi-lied politely, for he did not 'see' just what it was that Yoda's great mind encompassed. He tried not to get involved with mechanical devices anyways.

"Contact you before I could not," Yoda said. "Recently, increased the Imperial Navy's search for our location has become. Forced we are to relocated, time after time. No moment of rest had I, to tell you about these occurrences. Still running we are, but too important it was to contact you to wait for a respite in the Jedi hunt. Advice I must give you." Yoda's green eyes were full of concern. "Marrying Darth Vader, are you, Obi-Wan? Think what do you will come of this?"

"How did you learn of that?" Obi-Wan asked, surprised. "I thought Threepio was your spy, and he was dismantled before that happened."

"A secret it is not. All who watch the Holonet know of this, as displayed it was in a small article written about you after you invoked the curiosity of the people with your public appearance during Darth Vader's grand speech." Watching Obi-Wan's expression go through many different phases, he said softly, "Know this you did not, I see. Send you a copy I will, so you can see for yourself what it is." Yoda's hands scrabbled over the controls of his comlink, and because Obi-Wan couldn't see the communication device in the holograph a very odd appearance was given. It looked as if he were jabbing little nails into thin air.

The comlink in his hand blipped quietly, and he knew that he had received the data. "I got it, thanks." He stared at Yoda, asking, "Just what advice do you mean to give me?"

"Unwise, this is, and foolish." Yoda stared sternly at Obi-Wan with an unblinking gaze. "Only trouble and pain it will give you, I sense. Decline his offer, and to your friendship restore balance. Unhealthy, this liking Darth Vader has in you. Consume him it will, and if you allow it, you also."

"But that's a risk I have to take, at least for the moment," Obi-Wan said pointedly with practicality. "This is the quickest way to get to him. I can find out more information faster, and then once the mission's finished I can leave entirely. So while it's more dangerous, it also puts me in Skywalker's company for less time as a whole, as my mission will be completed at a much faster pace. If you think about it, the dangers are equal; only of different types." At Yoda's reproving gaze, Obi-Wan reassured him, "I won't let anything happen."

Yoda sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Your decision it is; only advise I can. But my warning remember."

"How will you know when to contact me now, since Threepio's been removed?"

"Use the Holonet to our advantage, we can. The main advisor you are of Darth Vader, it says. Correct this is?"—Obi-Wan nodded affirmatively—"Very well then, a plan I have. A code we will use. If need you do to speak to me, when answering questions of reporters for the Holonet, say 'The Empire is a _force_ to be reckoned with.' Watch I will, and if I see you speak this, contact you I will immediately."

"May the Force be with you," Obi-Wan said to Yoda.

"May the Force guide you, dear friend, and in these dark times protect you," Yoda said in farewell.

When Yoda's image had faded, Obi-Wan belatedly remembered all the questions wanted to ask Yoda. He'd been trying to answer Yoda's questions insomuch that he forgot his own. But…perhaps Yoda had done that intentionally, so that when he asked it would not be with anger but with level-headedness. The wounds of his younglings' deaths were still too raw, and digging deeper into the truth would only make them reopen and bleed again. He saw the sagaciousness of Yoda's actions, and while it irked him, he would save his interrogation for some later time. Besides, it wasn't as if he actually had a way to contact Yoda and initiate the conversation himself.

Shrugging, Obi-Wan decided that there was nothing he could do about the matter. There were other things he needed to attend to…such as the article, which was a worry of the present. He pressed a button on his comlink to display the small Holonet article that Yoda, being the sly little green—but admittedly wise—man he was, had sent him:

_Emperor Vader's Right-Hand Man: Just Who Is He?_

_Yesterday Lord Vader was named Emperor of the Galactic Empire. He gave a magnificent speech to the Senate, which, in case you missed it, can be found in the government section of Holonet at any time. The Holonet supports Emperor Vader, and we certainly expect to see him do great things. However, there is one unknown about Emperor Vader that we all must ask: who is his right-hand man?_—a small picture of him was placed by the text; it was of him standing on the right side of Anakin as the Sith gave his speech. A preoccupied look was on his bearded face—_We took it upon ourselves to inform the public and scheduled a meeting with Emperor Vader at once. We were curious: did that distant look on his face symbolize great wisdom or (the unthinkable) a snubbing of Emperor Vader?_

_Emperor Vader agreed to a meeting, and consented that we could use everything spoken during that time in this article. He wishes for the public to be well-informed about the going-ons of the Empire. As always, Emperor Vader outstands us with his generosity. After a couple minutes of polite niceties, we asked the big question: who was this man? Emperor Vader was happy to tell us that his name is Obi-Wan Kenobi (no known middle name), and that he is Emperor Vader's official main advisor._

"_As for his look…well, you know how all advisors are. Always thinking ahead, their heads in the clouds. Hence, the intelligent look adorning his face can be considered official proof of his position," Emperor Vader joked, commenting on his companion's distant gaze._

_Unlike his predecessor, Emperor Vader not only keeps the Empire running smoothly but also has a sense of humor._

_We dug around for a little more information, and Emperor Vader willingly answered our question: how is Obi-Wan Kenobi connected to the Empire? Emperor Vader told us that they are old friends, and just recently that friendship has turned into something more. He was kind enough to tell us this reclusive fact (that we can guarantee you will only find with us): Kenobi is engaged to Emperor Vader. We asked Emperor Vader when the wedding would take place, but all he would tell us was 'soon.' Our question about 'where' was tactfully rebuked with equal grace. While we cannot send representatives to the wedding, we wish the couple best of luck, and ask humbly for an interview afterwards!_

–_This Holonet article was written by Garle Upit_

Obi-Wan was shocked. When did this happen? He certainly never wanted to be the focus of the media, but for Anakin to announce their_ engagement_ on it—it made him angry. _Furious_. He hadn't even thought that Anakin was capable of something this underhanded.

'But "Emperor Vader" is,' Obi-Wan realized. 'This is something that Darth Vader would do without thinking.' So this was what Yoda was warning him about. He had to remember that he contended with not only the Anakin he was familiar with, but also the 'Darth Vader' side of him.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, holding it a few seconds before letting it escape his lips in a frustrated sigh. He'd discuss this lack of privacy later when he returned home. Despite how nice it sounded to storm up to the Senate building and yell at Anakin, he knew he had to think this through calmly. He had to finish his lessons with the younglings, and then he had to find a time during which he could talk to Anakin privately. He didn't want Leia and Luke to hear them arguing, or for another mutant Hononet article to find its way into the world.

* * *

"What were you thinking?" Obi-Wan asked coldly, throwing a printed copy of the article on Anakin's bed. He had felt a desperate urge for physical proof and had impulsively printed out the article. He had wanted to crumple it, rip it up into little pieces, burn the thin sheets of paper until they curled up into nothing—the untouched article laid white and pristine on Anakin's bed, not a crease marring its edges.

Anakin, who had been lying down on his bed, sat up quickly, startled. "I didn't realize you were finished brushing your teeth, Obi," Anakin said.

"Don't change the subject," Obi-Wan demanded. He'd had to wait until nighttime (when the twins were asleep) to find the right moment to talk to Anakin. During all the waiting his anger had grown colder and colder until it had nearly frozen his insides. Only the numbness inside him, and the bitter taste in his mouth, now assured him that he felt anything at all.

Anakin picked up the article and scanned it. He then said in an amused tone, "I don't see the problem here."

The offhanded way in which Anakin dismissed his concerns as frivolous melted some of the ice surrounding Obi-Wan. He felt his anger warming again, stirring from its motionless sleep. His voice rising slightly, he said, "_That's_ the problem."

"That nothing's wrong?" Anakin asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. The motion caused his vertical forehead scar to crunch up.

"No, it's that there _is_ something wrong and you don't see it!" Obi-Wan said stiffly. His body felt so taut that he half-believed, if he moved, he'd snap.

"Then inform me of it," Anakin said with the corner glance of his eyes that he was so fond of using to observe people.

"Don't give me that look!" Obi-Wan snapped, taking an angry step towards Anakin, who still had the audacity to be sitting, relaxed, on the bed.

"What look?" Anakin asked lazily as he continued to look at Obi-Wan from the side of his eyes, head tilted slightly upward and to the left as he gazed unblinkingly at Obi-Wan. He kept his face contemplative and serene. His eyes were the only sharp part of his expression, the only warning given to caution him that he faced not a mild-mannered creature but a violent predator.

"That one!" Obi-Wan growled in frustration.

"You're going to have to articulate better for me to understand your implied meaning."

"You're going to have to stop side-stepping my questions!"

"You should take some deep breaths and calm yourself down. You clearly aren't thinking straight right now."

Taking a deep breath as Anakin recommended, Obi-Wan used it to yell at him, "Why did you tell the Holonet about us! What gave you the idea that I wanted the galaxy to know about my personal affairs?"

"Half of those 'personal affairs' are mine also. I have the right to give the public any information I want pertaining to me. I wanted the galaxy to know that we were engaged, so I told them. It's not a crime."

"But it's disrespectful! Don't treat me like a consort—think of what they'll be writing next about me!"

"You don't need to worry about that; I control what airs on the Holonet. Any information—slander or truth—that I don't want the public to know I can simply take off. Not just the Holonet, but _all_ news-oriented broadcasts and internet sites are under my jurisdiction. See? Everything's fine."

"No, it's not," Obi-Wan said heatedly. Anakin knew that he had complete control over the broadcasts. But if he thought he had Obi-Wan under his fingers, then he was dead wrong. "There are many things wrong, on many levels."

"Well then, if you won't be satisfied with my answer, how else can I appease you? Shall we start with the root of the problem? What has been bothering you, Obi-Wan? I've observed that something's been wrong all along, but I've never mentioned it before."

Obi-Wan lost control.

"Don't think you know me! I'm sick of this—of being your replacement for Padmé! You've decided that it'd work nicely to pick the second-closest person to you and use them to fill the gap! Well, I don't like being used! If you can't accept her death, don't destroy my life trying to bring hers back! You've _lost_, Anakin. She's gone, and you couldn't bring her back! You've lost, and you're lost, and everything's a lost cause with you!"

There was a strange gleam in Anakin's eyes as he slowly tilted his head to stare at Obi-Wan directly. His eyes were so cold that no cracks could be seen in their frigid field of blue ice. "You're simply overreacting to a silly article and blowing things out of proportion with your false accusations. Honestly, Obi-Wan, you shouldn't just say things in spite." Something shadowy started to stir up from Anakin, a force of dark energy that crackled like static sparks. "You don't really mean any of it. It's not your fault that you don't know what you're talking about," Anakin said calmly.

Obi-Wan was about to yell something more when he suddenly lost his train of thought. His mind was in such a chaotic state that his anger swallowed all processes of thinking, leaving nothing but flames and no source. Feeling the inexplicable need to lash out, he opened his mouth—

"Shut up," Anakin commanded.

His mouth snapped shut as he glared angrily at Anakin.

Anakin's mouth crashed down on his, his hands tugging him persistently towards the bed. Obi-Wan fell down onto the soft mattress, Anakin blanketing over him. He felt cheated and embittered.

He was left with a rage that had no reason, and no means to communicate it.


	17. Bonds

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books. 

**Writer's Block: **Possession by **Jaxmari**. It's a Star Wars fic, rated M, and involves Ani/Obi slash (surprise surpise. ;) ). This is a nice little oneshot that explores the feelings of our favorite pair. It's very well written, has sensational characterizations, and an ending line that I just love. It's great seeing Ankin's inner turmoil and conflict. Jaxmari is a talented writer, and it's a pleasure to read her writing.

Ahhh…well, let's see…what do I want to comment on in the last chapter? Some stuff was explained in there, especially about Threepio being Yoda's secret source of information. If you go back and reread the chapters (which is almost egotistical of me to say, since I shouldn't assume my story's good enough for a second read (although I hope it is)), you'll notice that when Obi-Wan confides in Kye I always mention Threepio in the background. That's how Yoda knew when it was or was not necessary to contact Obi-Wan. I try to be tricky like that. But don't worry! There are more plot twists, and I hope that as I reveal them more little hidden clues will become noticeable throughout the story.

I thank you for the reviews. I enjoy myself immensely by reading them. Please, if you find any mistakes, tell me and I'll fix them. It's a pretty big chapter, and more text means more of a chance of error. This chapter's a little break from the darkness that seems to be permeating my story (hence the genre 'tragedy'), so hopefully you'll enjoy this treat of something a little lighter and more humorous than normal. Tell me if I pulled it off or if this chapter flopped.

**Page Amount:** 11 

**Word Count: **8,806

Started 8-5-05 (today's Justin's last Friday (party) before he moves -tear-) and finished 8-6-05 (Friday was a blast. :) )

Listening to: Billy Idol "White Wedding"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Seventeen**: Bonds_

It was three standard days after that frustrating and confusing night, and Obi-Wan was still wondering what had happened. While he tried to shrug it off, he knew that his actions were futile. He had already tried everything to get his mind off the topic, but his thoughts kept veering towards it again and again. It was like trying to keep lightning from hitting the tallest tree on a hill. Something about that 'lover's spat' oddly reminded him about the day that Tarren and Skraith had died…it was just this _feeling_ he got. He couldn't explain it, and that annoyed and worried him. Hence why he was trying to forget it, and failing.

Focusing instead on the flavor of his tea, chamomile with a hint of honey, Obi-Wan turned his thoughts toward the weather outside. Today was one of those rare rainy days that Coruscant was 'blessed' with. The atmosphere didn't have much water in it, so it took a while for the air to become saturated enough for the hydrogen gases to fall down from their own weight—of course, finding enough pollution to act as nuclei for the droplets was never a problem. The precipitation never varied, just as the heated temperature of the city-planet never did; when the water fell from the sky, it fell as rain. Period.

'Snow would be a nice change,' Obi-Wan decided, looking out the window at the gloomy gray clouds and falling rain. 'The whiteness would give this city a fresh look.' Rain made him feel dreary. Whenever he walked outside, no matter how small that time frame being, no matter how large his umbrella, the fat droplets always managed to soak into his clothes and seep into his bones. Wearing those drenched clothes made him feel like he was wearing a permanent clamminess, one that he could never rid himself of. Even the memory of it was enough to dampen his mood.

Taking another sip from his heated mug, he steeled himself for what was coming. He'd have to walk out into it, at least until he could find a taxi to take him to the Temple. He couldn't depend on Anakin for a ride since he was probably already tangled up in Imperial matters. From the empty bed he'd woken up to and the empty kitchen, Obi-Wan assumed that Anakin had gone to work early. That suited him just fine; he liked the alone time.

Cradling his navy blue mug, he watched vaporous strands of steam twist up from the amber liquid.

Sometimes, when Anakin was near, he felt like he couldn't think for himself. Anakin was always interjecting his opinion, pushing for him to believe this or that idea instead of these or those thoughts. It was like trying to swim against the tide—all he did was wear himself out and get nowhere.

He hadn't felt hungry this morning, but he'd made himself a bowl of cereal anyways. He would need the energy to teach the younglings, and he knew that his body would thank him later on. He'd left out bowls, spoons, and the twins' two boxes of favorite cereal (grossly enough, they did not eat different types of cereal but mixed the two brands together), just so they wouldn't forget to eat when they woke up. He might not be able to cook like Anakin, but he could manage on his own decently. There was something strangely—or maybe not quite so strangely—satisfying about independence.

Getting up, he rinsed out his now empty cup and put it in the dishwasher. He trooped toward the door, intent on equipping himself with his shield and sword (a waterproof jacket and umbrella) before doing battle with the rain. He was about to open the jacket-closet and grab his things when a hand leaped in front of him, holding the door shut.

"Self-sufficient today, aren't we?" Anakin asked, amused, hand still firmly placed on the closet door. "I thought you didn't like going out in the rain; you should have asked me for a ride. You know I don't mind."

Obi-Wan said, "I didn't know that you were still here. I assumed that you had already left for work…" He shrugged indifferently. "I figured I had to get to the Temple anyways, so I might as well make it there sooner than later. I was going to call down an air taxi if possible, and if not, well…walking it would be. It's not entirely horrendous out there."

"I don't see why you find the idea of walking in the rain so morbid," Anakin replied honestly. "I love the rain. I always thought of it as Nature's remedy to her problems; a period of cleansing in which she washed away the toxics on her surface with a healthy scrubbing. And if rain can do that to an entire planet, I always figured that it was a simple matter for it to let my own worries and cares trickle away. The soul needs cleaning sometimes too."

"I can't say that I'm very fond of it… The only kind of precipitation we get here is rain, and after experiencing it all my life it gets rather boring. The novelty wears off quickly, and then all you're left with is the wet. I like snow more; only on rare occasions do I get the chance to see it, so it's a special event every time."

Anakin smiled. "I guess it's the same for me too."

"How? You love the rain; I love the snow."

"You love the weather that you never get to see; I love the weather which I yearned for as a child. I came from a desert world…it seldom rains there. Here, rain is plentiful. Even after all these years, I still find the thought refreshing. Rejuvenating."

"At least one of us can appreciate the weather we're having. As for me, if I can't have snow, then I'd prefer a sunny day with a gentle breeze."

"We get many of those on Coruscant. Let me have my occasional rainy day, Obi. Try not to rain on my parade too much." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he tried to say that seriously.

"Ha ha. Aren't you just a little ray of sunshine?" Obi-Wan grumbled, but he couldn't completely hide his smile—Anakin's corny joke had worked, to an extent. "Just give me my ride to the Temple already, before I decide to drown myself in all this rainwater."

"Please don't joke about such a serious matter," Anakin asked gently, his face somber. "I don't like hearing you say things like that."

Obi-Wan didn't know how to respond to such a request. At last, he shrugged and said, "Alright, I won't joke like that anymore." He hadn't known that the topic was a touchy one; Anakin had never mentioned anything about it being one before. But then again, Obi-Wan couldn't remember if the topic had ever come up in the past. If it had, it slipped his memory.

They got into Anakin's speeder. Anakin started the repulsor boosters, and the craft hovered off the ground. He gently steered through traffic, knowing exactly where he was going. Droplets splattered on the windshield, drumming a merry tune only to be instantly evaporated by the mildly heated glass. Most vehicles, except the poorly built junkers, had this ability. The combined clouds of vapor rising off the plastiglass windows of speeders created a thin mist that coated everything. Buildings became hazy outlines and traffic lanes only distinguishable by the single-file lines of glaring headlights. Everything took on a washed-out hue, like watercolors diluted by too much water.

Obi-Wan looked around. Even in all this mist he knew that they were going in the opposite direction of the Temple. "Ani…I think that you've made a wrong turn. The Temple is in the _other_ direction." He pointed the way they _should_ be going.

"Not to worry, the younglings already know that you won't be there. I dropped by yesterday and told them. They understand that you have other engagements to keep." Anakin smiled at his hidden pun. "I thought it would be a nice surprise for you."

"…I'm feeling like there's something more to this than I know…" Obi-Wan said warily, studying Anakin's Mona Lisa smile.

"Today's our wedding," Anakin responded happily.

"And you didn't tell me?" Obi-Wan's mouth went slack for a moment, gaping like a fish's, before he regained some of his composure and shut it. He felt flustered, like he had been given a script and told that the play's final performance was tonight 'and oh yeah, by the way, you've got the leading part. Have fun.'

"What do I have to do? What do I wear? Aren't there supposed to be some—some sort of 'ritual' that we have to go over beforehand, so we don't screw up? Lines we're supposed to memorize? I'm completely unprepared." Obi-Wan ran a hand through his brown hair, and it frazzled to match his state of mind. He suddenly rounded on Anakin, green eyes flashing warningly. "Will the press be there?" he asked in a menacing voice, "If you invited the press or any of your political 'friends,' I'm un-inviting myself."

"I thought you might react this way." Anakin laughed. "That's why I didn't give you any forewarning. I didn't want you to runaway in your distress, so I took care of all the details myself. And to answer your questions in order: nothing you don't want to, what you're wearing is fine, no rituals are included, lines are a nice thought but not needed, and no press or political associates of mine will be there." Anakin juggled traffic and Obi-Wan's questions with ease.

"Then what do we need to do and where are we going?" He'd rather have them both stay at home and keep the whole affair quiet. Just say 'I do,' get the legal papers, slip on the rings, and then go on with their lives. Or better yet, they could post pone it indefinitely due to a 'rain check'—in quite the literal sense. Obi-Wan watched the melancholy clouds grumble in the sky as they rolled slowly westward. He felt like grumbling himself.

"We're getting married in an unconventional way. Call it an elopement and vacation rolled into one. Remember the rogue planet, Zonama Sekot? We're going to pay a visit there first."

"First? Then that means that there must be a 'next.' Where is it?"

"I have to keep some of my secrets." Anakin winked. "But you'll enjoy yourself, don't worry."

"Oh really…" Obi-Wan said with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh really-really," Anakin mimicked jokingly, his voice convincing and relaxed. "It'll just be the two of us, and Leia and Luke, of course—and Artoo-detoo, can't forget him, now can we? In other words, it'll just be the family. We're keeping this nice, small, and simple. I already got the official legal marriage papers, so we're legally a married couple already."

"Don't we need some sort of…priest, or whatever to marry us?" Obi-Wan asked. He wasn't very knowledgeable of the steps needed to make a marriage legitimate. He just never had enough interest in it to research the facts.

"That's not necessary. It's really only used by those who are still religious. Are you a religious man, Obi?" Anakin glanced at him inquiringly, trying to keep an eye on the traffic and the Jedi's expression at the same time.

"The only omniscient presence I believe in is the Force," Obi-Wan vowed. "It is not a religion; it is an Order."

Anakin laughed lightly at him, not saying a word.

They arrived at the universal transportation station, and Leia and Luke got up from their waiting seats upon seeing their speeder land. They raced over to the two men, shouting greetings and waving cheerful, chubby hands. R2-D2, their new caretaker and friend, rolled after them, beeping and flickering blue and red lights at them. What he said sounded like a baby-gurgled complaint. Leia grabbed onto Anakin's hand and wouldn't let go, swinging it gently as she hummed happily. Luke stood close to Obi-Wan and looked up to give the man a quiet smile before his gaze flickered away.

Anakin declared, "Now that everyone's here, we'll get on the small cruiser I registered and bought yesterday. Since we'll be spending a bit of time in space, I figured it'd be best to get a comfortable ship meant for traveling long periods of time—and had added measures of luxury."

"Good thinking," Luke agreed.

"Is there enough room for us to move around?" Leia demanded. "How many rooms are there and how much time are we going to be spending on it? Is it a really long time? 'Cause then I'll get hungry, and we'll need to stop to eat."

"It's not a very big ship, since otherwise I wouldn't be able to steer it all by myself, but it's decent. It's got the pilothouse, where I'll be doing the flying, three sleeping quarters, a small kitchen, a lounging room, one bathroom with a refresher, and other rooms that don't involve you—the room housing the engines and hyperdrive, a maintenance room with all the wires of the ships and the core power system, a small docking bay with enough room for two small speeders, and…" He left the word dangling dangerously.

"Sounds big enough," Leia said quickly, cutting him off. "Please don't get into the technical talk."

"And I was just going to say 'and, that's it.' " Anakin said teasingly, tweaking her nose. Giving Obi-Wan a look, he added playfully, "It seems that she takes after you, Obi. Both of you have mild cases of techno-phobia."

Obi-Wan and Leia scowled at the exact same moment. Their identical looks, given at the same time, only prolonged Anakin's laughter.

"I'd like to know more," Luke said eagerly.

"Once we're on the ship I can input the coordinates of our location and let the ship fly on autopilot. It's an hour flight, even traveling in hyperspace and using shortcuts, so we'll have plenty of time to talk then. Deal?"

"Okay." Luke looked happy with that response. He enjoyed machinery almost as much as his dad.

The four people and droid boarded the ship. Anakin went to the head of the ship and entered commands into the mainframe, starting the engines and lifting the ship out of the hanger bay. He eased them into one of the lanes of traffic leaving Coruscant, and they took that for a while before breaking away to go through one of the hyperspace lanes used for long-distance space traveling. Anakin then set the piloting system on autopilot and sat back. All he had to do was be in the room and make sure nothing went wrong. During any ship's maiden voyage, it's always considered best to keep a closer eye on her than regularly required, just to make sure she wasn't defunct or had any odd quirks to her flying.

"So what's its name?" Obi-Wan asked, taking a seat next to Anakin. The seat was very cushioned and plush, allowing his body to sink in as it took his shape and curved to fit his contours. Even _he_—a person who zealously tried to avoid such flying death-devices—knew that this was one expensive ship. That was saying a lot, coming from him. The ship purred around him, sleek and content as a sunning panther after a good hunt.

He didn't like flying much, but he had to admit that she was a smooth ship with flying abilities to match her graceful appearance. Cruisers were meant for comfort and long travels, but even with her smaller size she looked especially luxurious. Not to mention armed; he had noted the laser blasters and proton missile-launchers attached to the underside of her two wings. They were artistically added in a way to keep them from being a glaringly obvious addition, but any weapons that big couldn't be overlooked.

The siren ship sung 'aesthetic' on the finest high note, laced faintly with the low duet of 'dangerous'; it was a heady concoction for anyone to drink in with their eyes.

"_Empress of the Stars_. Finest cruiser of her class," Anakin said proudly. "I did some tinkering and modifying on her myself. I improved her engines to make her more efficient in her fuel usage and give her more speed. I also updated her defense system. Added stronger shields, weapons, the works."

"All I asked for was the name," Obi-Wan said, wondering (and dreading) if this was an introduction into a 'machinery and ships' speech. Off the top of his head he could think of several more humane torturing methods.

Luke entered the pilothouse. Anakin asked him, "Where's your sister, Luke?"

"She's in her room, playing with those dolls she brought."

"I can see why you decided to join us," Anakin said with a half-understanding, half-joking smile. "But here's a question for you: if you could dismantle one of her dolls, one of the electronic ones with tiny CPUs in them, would you do so? Just to see how it ticks?"

"…There's got to be a catch to that question," Luke said finally, a suspicious look in his eyes.

"You're quick, I'll give you that," Anakin said with a laugh. "Yes, there is: you'd have to play dolls with Leia for an hour afterwards."

Luke paused, his face scrunching up in thought. "I guess…that'd be a fair trade."

"I thought I saw you sneaking covetous glances at her robot dolls," Anakin said, satisfied with the answer. "I just had to make sure. But now that I know what you're thinking… No, you can't. Leia loves those dolls very much, and if one of them disappears under _any_ suspicious circumstances, you'll have some major time-out and dish-duty coming your way."

"You tricked me!" Luke exclaimed heatedly, brandishing an accusing finger at Anakin.

"I'm your father, that's what I'm supposed to do," Anakin said seriously, though there was a glint of humor in his eyes. "It's the only way I can get information out of you kids."

Grumbling, Luke swung his legs as he sat in the too-high seat. He looked around the small room, at all the dials and screens. Finally, his curiosity and need for information won out against his irritation at his father's cheap trick, and he asked, "What does that button do?" as he pointed at a green button.

"Well, you see, that button links to the…"

Anakin went on to explain something that went right over Obi-Wan's head. It honestly sounded like he was speaking a different language—some freakish tongue that enjoyed using the sounds 'hydraulics' and 'modulators' and 'watts' far too much. Then Luke's eyes brightened, and he responded with the same esoteric gibberish Anakin sprouted. Soon they were talking animatedly, using words that Obi-Wan had never heard before, much less thought were the reasons why the craft under his feet didn't fall out of the sky and burn into many little pieces. It was terrifying.

As Obi-Wan left (a polite way to say 'made a speedy retreat'), Anakin paused in his techno-babble to ask Obi-Wan, "Where are you going?"

Obi-Wan called over his shoulder, "To play dolls with Leia. I think my chances of survival are better."

* * *

Zonama Sekot took its time coming, Obi-Wan thought, a little weary after forty-five arduous and taxing minutes of teatime. Leia and Molly and Polly were ecstatic to see him, and he could hardly endure their excitement. Leia was still trying to get him to 'hookup,' as she was fond of calling it, with Molly and Polly. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ward off Leia and her dolls' attempts; he was finding that the dolls—err…he meant Leia—really were persuasive…or at least persistent. Definitely persistent.

Finally, Luke came into their room and told them that they would be leaving hyperspace in the next few minutes. They all went up to the pilothouse and watched the streaking lines of lights slow down to pinpoint stars as the ship slowed down.

"And there, lady and gentlemen and droid, is Zonama Sekot, the one and only rogue planet of the galaxy," Anakin announced, pointing at the nearing planet. "It has hyperdrive engines wired into the surface, huge ones, and that's how the entire planet is able to move through its own volition. Obi and I saw it disappear into hyperspace on its maiden voyage."

"Was it incredible?" Leia asked, eyes wide at the thought of a planet moving itself. She pushed her nose against the plastiglass of the ship's main window and stared at the planet as if she expected it to jump any minute.

"It was incredible." Anakin grinned, ruffling her curly brown hair. "Like something out of a wild dream."

For the second time in his life, Obi-Wan found himself on that strange, mystical planet. It was a unique planet, not only because of the hyperdrive engines built into it, but because it actually _knew_ that it existed. Somehow, sometime, it had gained a conscious. It was simply a phenomenon. Zonama was the planet itself; Sekot was the living world, the part that had slowly grown in awareness until it had become a sentient being. Sekot was a very old and very young being at the same time.

"So what are we going to be doing here?"

"We are going to build a ship," Anakin replied readily.

"That's impossible; the inhabitants of the planet refused to build ships for strangers after that Trade Federation fleet fired on them." Obi-Wan and Anakin, during the time when they had been Master and Padawan, had witness the entire planet flee the armed fleet by using its hyperdrive engines. "I didn't even realize that it had settled down; last time I'd heard of it, it was still jumping around the galaxy, never stopping long enough to be found."

"I was able to confer telepathically with Sekot, and it agreed to make an exception for us. It recognized me, since we had talked before. I knew that I wanted to do something unforgettable today to mark our wedding day, and this was the best I could think of."

"This is plenty good for me," Obi-Wan said humorously. "If you thought up a surprise any larger, you might accidentally give me a heart attack."

"We'll be building one ship with all the seed-partners that choose us—meaning you, me, Leia, and Luke. I told them already an estimate of how many seed-disks they're going to have to work with, and they said that they were prepared for and welcomed the challenge. Sekot will especially be attentive with our ship's making." Anakin grinned. "She's going to make the _Empress of the Stars_ look like a disposal-freighter once she's done."

A native representative greeted them when they got off the ship (R2-D2 stayed behind because he would be a hindrance during the building process). They were quickly escorted to a chamber, where the proper rituals were done before they had the chance to choose their seed-partners—or more exactly, for their seed partners to choose them. When they entered the cavity holding the seed-partners, the spiky balls all bristled. Leia and Luke huddled close to their father, intimidated by their bristles. The pods fell from the ceiling, rolling over to them and inspecting them. The first time Obi-Wan and Anakin had come here, all the seed-partners had toppled on top of them in their excitement to get to Anakin; Obi-Wan was glad not to repeat that experience.

Anakin had learned restraint in the Force, and now his powers did not escape his control. While the seed-partners could feel his strength in the Force, they were not overexcited like last time. Twelve clung to Anakin like the previous time, three came to Obi-Wan, and Leia and Luke each had two attached to their small bodies when they left the chamber.

Next came the planning of the ship, in which they tried to figure out the details of what they wanted the final product to look like. While these sketches were in no way the final copy, they would give the builders an idea of what to do. Sekot and the seed-partners would be the ones with the final say in how the ship formed. The ship was not built from binding blueprints, but from the loose flow of creativity and letting things happen as they did. Rather than trying to suppress the unplanned, they welcomed it and gently molded it to fit smoothly into everything else.

After that the seed-partners were heated, cooked until they jumped and shivered and finally cracked, transforming into disks. These disks were then used to make the ship. They had to sit in the skeletal frame of the ship as they went down the manufacturing line. The seeds asking them questions of how the ship should be formed as it was being built around them. The making of the ship was a blur to Obi-Wan, one of those experiences where one remembered the feeling but forgot the details. His mind was in sensory overload and just sort of 'shut down' from the overwhelming rush of information. Before he knew it, they were all sitting in a complete ship.

Sekot ships were a very rare and special kind of ship, valued and treasured across the galaxy. Part of its uniqueness came from its connection to its owner, for it could only have one pilot, and if that pilot should die the ship would begin to decompose instantly. Sekot ships were, in fact, alive. The ships were organic, made of living pieces of Sekot, and could heal minor wounds to the hull. Since it was made from the seeds that had chosen all four of them, it could 'speak'—not quite through words alone, but through a mixture of simple words and feelings and mental pictures—to them all.

Anakin drove their new ship around the planet, testing it out. He smiled at Obi-Wan and asked, "A memorable experience?"

"One that I'll never forget, even if the details escape me," Obi-Wan assured him. "It was even more hectic with nineteen seeds-partners, wasn't it?"

"And the ship is even more amazing because of it." The ship was like a sleek, miniature speeder. It had the distinctive shape of a swallow: graceful with long, pointed wings and a long, forked tail. It had its own hyperdrive engine, though it was a snug fit due to its petite frame. There were no weapons on the ship, as the natives of Sekot were unwilling to put them on because it went against their pacifist nature. The ship's defense shields, along with its speed, agile maneuverability and slight regeneration capabilities, were enough to let it escape a fight unscathed. The ship's seats conformed to each of their body shapes; the entire ship was comfortable and gave off the warm feeling of home. Even the welcome it gave to its creators had a familiar feel to it.

"What are we going to call it?" Leia asked happily from the backseat of the ship. Once she had gotten over the fright of the seed-partners' appearance, she had thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Everyone had.

Anakin thought for a moment, before finally saying, "_Trance_. I like that name, and for such a beauty…anyone who sees her will have to go into a trance unless they're completely oblivious to a good ship." Anakin smiled fondly at the ship and patted its wall. "And I don't think even Obi-Wan is that oblivious. He'd have to have the IQ of a goldfish."

Asking for the consent of his family, he said, "That is, if no one minds that name. She belongs to all of us, and we should all have equal says in her name."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "You're the pilot; I'll go with any name you pick, unless it's really dorky. Or if the name starts getting technical." He grinned to show he was teasing Anakin.

Leia and Luke conferred among themselves, hushed whispers exchanged back and forth behind concealing hands. Finally, Leia, as their representative, chirped, "_Trance_ works for us!"

"Now that we've christened the ship, I have something else that I want to say…" Anakin landed the ship down on a patch of land not covered by trees or brush—a difficult thing to do due to the lush jungle-foliage. He shifted in his seat so he faced Obi-Wan. He said seriously while taking off Obi-Wan's ring from his left ring finger, "Our love is like this ship; it can only grow stronger as long as we nurture it"—a smile flickered over his lips, and he couldn't help but add—"and do maintenance work."

Obi-Wan snorted internally; of course Anakin couldn't help but work the ship into his speech. On the outside he looked serene, loving, and happy. Obi-Wan was the acme of 'self control.'

Anakin clasped their hands together. The ring was pressed into both of their palms, and the gentle pressure indented his skin. He smiled happily at Obi-Wan. "I'm not saying that it'll be easy married to me, but I want you to know that I'll do everything in my power to make it a loving, unforgettable experience. I want to spend eternity with you. Marriage helps open that doorway."

Obi-Wan responded with, "Many opportunities will come from this and I'm sure that many doorways will open. We'll only have to hope that they're the ones we want, and meet them one by one. Together." He smiled back at Anakin. He leaned forward and whispered, "I love you."

Anakin slipped the ring on his right hand and said back, "I love you too." He kissed Obi-Wan gently on the lips. It was a chaste, warm kiss that spoke of spiritual love that transcended the physical.

"Ewww!" Leia shrieked. "Daddy's kissing Obi-Wan!"

"…I'm a bit disturbed myself," Luke admitted reluctantly, not one to be insulting or assertive in his opinions but feeling the need to express them nonetheless.

"They're like, twenty years too old to be doing that!" Leia shuddered, covering her eyes with cupped hands. For a four-year-old they were old, old men. Doll romance fascinated her much more.

Anakin chuckled, saying quietly, "I was wondering how far we could press our luck before the peanut-gallery got rowdy. Couldn't have this day without them, though." He looked lovingly at his children, who were now making fun of them; they both had on kissy faces, looking like puckered up fish. Leia made a loud, wet smacking noise; Luke had his eyes crossed.

"Just one more thing we have to do…" He pulled out another ring from his pocket. It was identical to the one on Obi-Wan's finger. "I can finally put this on. I've been carrying it around in my pocket for days—for good luck." He smiled happily as he slipped the ring on; somehow, the simple action conveyed a completion of something beyond intellectual understanding, a fulfillment of a magnitude too large to grasp all at once. The gold of the ring contrasted with the polished silver of his mechanical hand, though both gleamed brightly in the sunlight.

Turning to the twins, Anakin said, "Okay, kids, settle down. We're behaving now, so your teasing is unmerited."

"I dunno that word." Leia shrugged. She swung her legs back and forth as they dangled off the edge of the seat.

"The proper way to say that is 'I don't know,' " Anakin corrected her automatically. "And 'unmerited' means undeserved. Since we've stopped kissing, your ridicule of us is undeserved."

"Whatever," Leia said, crossing her small, dainty hands over her chest defensively. "It's still gross."

Anakin laughed. "Then you won't mind me returning the favor later on. So when I'm making those faces and noises in the background when you bring home a date, just remember that you earned it."

"Molly, Polly, and I are perfectly fine with being dateless!" Leia declared.

Obi-Wan muttered quietly to Anakin so that only he could hear, "I wouldn't be so sure of what she's saying; on the trip up to here she was trying to hook me up with Molly and Polly."

Quirking his eyebrows and lips, Anakin whispered back, "Should I be jealous?"

"No; I declined them politely." More like fended them off. But he didn't say that.

Anakin kissed Obi-Wan lightly on the cheek, ignoring the shrieks and protests from the back. "Good. I wouldn't want any competition. Especially from such fine ladies as Molly and Polly."

"They're just stupid dolls," Luke snorted. "Who'd want to play with them?" Leia gasped in horror, her previous targets (Anakin and Obi-Wan) already forgotten at the new affront.

"Do you really mean that, or are you just saying that because I told you that you couldn't dissect one of her mechanic ones?" Anakin asked slyly. As Leia's gasp became a shriek, Anakin added sweetly, "Just returning the favor, my dear boy."

"You wanted to do _what_ to Rosemary?"

Luke said defensively, "I'd be able to put her back afterwards…"

"What, with only three out of four limbs intact?"

"I am a very capable mechanic! She would be returned with all limbs attached, and in their proper sockets!"

"I bet you'd get oil on her dress."

"I would remove it first, dummy."

"You'd take off her clothes! Sicko!"

"You're the one who was complaining about it!"

"On that note, let's get going to part two of the surprise," Anakin said with a wicked grin. He started the engine again and headed back to their cruiser, _Empress of the Stars_.

"You really are evil, aren't you?" Obi-Wan commented mildly, watching the twins bicker back and forth. Anakin laughed and wouldn't say a word. They returned to _Empress of the Stars_ and put the Sekot ship in the small hanger bay built into the cruiser.

As they left Zonama Sekot, Anakin closed his eyes to say goodbye to Sekot personally. Whatever was said in that goodbye must have both comforted him and troubled him, because his forehead drew down before flattening out completely, turning into a peaceful expression. It was like watching wax being smoothed out by expert fingers. He smiled at Obi-Wan when he saw that the other man was watching him.

Anakin and Obi-Wan sat in companionable silence as they traveled through hyperspace, not talking. However, the ship was not quiet at all. The twins argued the entire time, their voices getting louder and their fight more heated as time passed by. Before they reached the stage of pushing, Anakin stopped them by saying, "We're coming close to our destination, so I suggest that you two stop bickering. Or else I might make you stay on the ship while Obi-Wan and I have all the fun."

They quieted quickly, becoming cherubs with large, expectant, innocent eyes.

"Next stop, Naboo," Anakin declared, taking the ship out of hyperspace.

They landed on a remote docking station surrounding by rolling, green plains, so much like gentle green sea waves. The grass swung back and forth in the mild breeze, graceful and supple as ballerinas. They sung _shhh shhh_ sweetly as they rubbed together. A few puffy white clouds speckled the sky, drifting lazily towards no destination in particular. The sun was bright, but not glaring, and the temperature perfect.

Obi-Wan said in a voice that arched, "This _is_ quite the surprise." He had assumed that Anakin wouldn't have liked to come back here, since his dead wife had been a native of this planet. This was where they had first met and this was where her final resting place laid.

"This place is soothing," Anakin responded. "Not to mention that the terrain is perfect for what I have planned."

Obi-Wan tried to coerce Anakin into telling him what he had in mind, but Anakin wouldn't say a thing; the Negotiator tried all the tactics he could think of and still gained nothing. "Strictly confidential," was Anakin's response to all of his questions. The man truly was better at keeping secrets than he was during his Padawan days.

Obi-Wan looked around, trying to find clues to help him find the answer on his own; but it appeared that they were the only sentient beings around for miles. What could they be doing in such an isolated place? The scenery was beautiful, but he didn't think that would keep Leia and Luke occupied for long. Maybe if he and Anakin were alone he would think that they were here to enjoy the sights, but the twins needed active entertainment to remain happy.

Anakin came out of the hanger of _Empress of the Stars_ driving a small podracer. He gunned the engine, grinning broadly as he casually tossed Obi-Wan an extra helmet in a way that made the action seem effortless. His grin implied everything that wasn't said.

"Oh no, I won't humor you in this," Obi-Wan said firmly. He juggled the helmet between hands, as if he feared too much contact with it or was playing a game of hot potato by himself.

"Come on," Anakin said persuasively. "I built this one myself from scratch; I know the ins and outs of this machine like the back of my hand. She's the safest podracer you'll ever see."

"_No_ podracers are safe to drive. The words 'high fatality rate' should be its definition."

"I built her with an extra seat for just this purpose." He patted the seat right behind him, his smile growing wider. "It's like a hovermotorcycle, only bigger and faster. And it has seatbelts…that's got to count for something."

"For you being insane," Obi-Wan retorted.

"Just ride in it already!" Leia pouted, trying to push him, with no luck, towards the podracer. "The faster Daddy gives you a ride, the faster our turns will come. So stop wasting time—it's fun, okay?"

Obi-Wan gaped at Anakin. "You let your _children_ on that thing?" He pointed accusingly at the monster of a machine in front of him. It purred like a well-scratched, well-fed kitten as Anakin revved the engine.

"What did I tell you? She's as safe as a kitten—and purrs just like one too. You'll be in good hands. Trust me?" He extended his hand to Obi-Wan, giving him a look.

Obi-Wan reluctantly took it, allowing himself to be pulled up into the passenger seat right behind Anakin's driver seat (like with a hovermotorcycle, the two seats were actually one long one, with ridges in it to make it fit two comfortably). He jammed the helmet on his head and clicked the seatbelt in, with all the grimness of a soldier locking on a parachute right before a jump. "Fine, but if I die I want you to know that it's your fault."

Anakin grinned roguishly. "I'll keep that in mind."

And then they were racing over gentle hills of Naboo, the wind whistling in their ears. Anakin said something more, but the rushing air ripped his voice from him and Obi-Wan couldn't hear.

The wind stole the breath from Obi-Wan's lungs. But something took the place of oxygen in him, a mixture of terror and exhilaration that he had never felt before—a draught only found when the life is put to risk on senseless danger in the name of fun. Needing to grip onto something, and finding no other holds, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin's stomach and held on tightly. The wind was reduced as he tucked his head closer to Anakin's back, going from an earsplitting roar to a muffled flapping, but the fury and speed of it all still overwhelmed him. They went over dips and twists and turns (all of it making his stomach do equally impressive loops), only getting faster and faster. The machine was already screaming and the speedometer needle only jumped higher. The grass blurred into green blobs, the sky and clouds flew past in a disorderly fashion, and phantom formations of rocks and trees disappeared in a blink of an eye as their speeding devil whipped past everything. Obi-Wan felt like it was never going to end, and this idea was met with equal horror and joy. He strengthened his hold on Anakin as the needle shot up another ten, wind roaring in his ears—.

It was over.

The machine rumbled a bit, as if checking to see that everything was still attached to its proper place inside, before settling down. Obi-Wan took a shaky breath and relinquished his white-knuckled grip on Anakin to take off his helmet and seatbelt. He got off the podracer and stumbled a bit when he tried to steady himself on wobbly legs.

Anakin chuckled warmly and asked, "So how was your first time on a podracer?"

"Scary, but fun," he said truthfully. Anakin smiled happily at that. Obi-Wan tried to swallow, but the wind had made his mouth unbearably dry and there was no saliva in it. Instead, he shakily returned Anakin's grin. Leia raced past him, hopping onto the back of the podracer and buckling up. In seconds the two were gone, and Obi-Wan was left trying to catch his breath.

He turned to Luke, who was sitting down on the grass and waiting patiently for his turn. His hands were listlessly plucking up blades of grass and tossing them into the wind. The thin green stalks twirled in the air briefly before settling down a few feet away. Obi-Wan told him gently, "You shouldn't do that. Grass is a living thing, just like you and me. While you can't hear its silent scream, you are killing it when you unearth it."

"Sorry." Luke stilled his hands. "It's a habit I picked up to pass the time." His mind was not at all on the conversation; he was watching the podracer wistfully as it zoomed over hills and snaked through the shallow valleys similar to narrow, winding roads. "Our Dad takes us here sometimes, on special occasions, just for this purpose. I love the feeling of riding a podracer. I don't think I'd be able to control one myself, even on such easy terrain as these hills, but…I would like to try anyways. When I'm a little older."

"I have a feeling that you'd do just fine." Obi-Wan smiled kindly.

Luke glanced at him. "You really think so?"

"I do. You have many of your father's redeeming qualities; I'm sure that you gained his podracing skills also."

Luke showed his appreciation of Obi-Wan's comment with a small smile and saying, "Thanks." After a small pocket of silence in the conversation, Luke said admiringly, "Dad says that it's the best feeling, riding a podracer in a competition when it's just you 'against the whole world, it seems,' he said. Told me that there wasn't ever a time he felt more alive than when he was nine and up against the best podracers in the Outer Rim."

Luke stopped talking when he saw that Anakin had stopped the podracer by them. Leia hopped off the machine with a wild whoop. It was Luke's turn, and his excitement was evident on his face as he got onto the machine and tugged the helmet securely on his head.

After a few more rounds of everyone riding the podracer, Anakin declared that he needed a break. Luke and Leia scampered off to a nearby alcove of rocks that they wanted to climb. Anakin and Obi-Wan sat on the soft, warm grass, watching them to make sure they didn't accidentally injure themselves or one another.

After some time (he didn't know how long a lapse it had been, since the warm sun dulled his mind), Obi-Wan said laconically, for the sun was making him less keen for long, complex conversations, "Luke tells me that you've never felt more alive than when you were racing podracers."

"He did, now did he?" Anakin smiled.

"Mmmhmm."

"I'll admit, it is the most freeing experience I've ever had." Anakin closed his eyes, letting the sun soak into his lids and warm his eyes. "Beyond racing, I've never had such a heady rush of speed and excitement. It's like you're invincible; not because you are, but because the race takes you beyond caring if you are or aren't. You travel so fast that thoughts get left behind, and all you're left with are feelings—these wild, amazing feelings. There's no time for doubt, for questioning, for anything beyond reacting."

"Best experience ever?"

"Nope." Anakin smiled.

"Care to share?"

"Nope." The smile turned enigmatic.

"Any particular reason why?"

"Let's just say…that there are greater, more profound feelings than those of satisfying animalistic needs; feelings that free not just the body but the mind and soul."

The conversation died down, and for a long time only the grass's soft whisper could be heard along with Leia and Luke's distant shrieks of laughter. And even though the peace between them felt good, Obi-Wan couldn't help but let the words slip from his mouth…

"I didn't think that you would ever want to return to here."

"What gave you that idea?" Anakin languidly asked as he kept an eye on Luke and Leia as they played make-believe games on the pile of rocks.

"When you didn't turn up for Padmé's funeral, I figured that you just never wanted to come back here. That by returning here, you'd be bringing back too many bad memories…or more exactly, good memories that you could never repeat."

"I was busy that day," Anakin said quietly. "And I didn't think that many people would welcome my presence, even if I did decide to come."

"Did you visit her grave on some later date?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I never got around to it." Anakin shrugged apathetically. "A convenient time never came up."

They were already on Naboo, and Luke had told him that they had visited here before; a 'convenient time' was right now. The unsaid statement was that Anakin didn't visit her grave because he didn't want to. "She's dead," Obi-Wan said softly. "You can't keep denying the fact."

"I'm not," Anakin said tersely in a brutally simplistic manner. "She's dead. But you're not, and I'm not." His hand wrapped around Obi-Wan's, fingers intertwining. "So there's nothing more to talk about."

"There is still much more to talk about," Obi-Wan said, trying to be firm but gentle at the same time. "There's nothing wrong with grieving. You can do that and still be strong. You need to let go."

Anakin abruptly looked at the watch on his wrist and said, "I'm sorry Obi, but I've got to get going. I scheduled a private conference meeting for later on today, and I have to leave now if I want to get there on time. It's a very pressing matter that can't wait. I'll take _Trance_ back to Coruscant, and then you and the kids can come back whenever you feel like it using _Empress of the Stars_." He kissed Obi-Wan affectionately on the lips. "Sound good?"

Obi-Wan sighed; there was no getting through to Anakin. "Fine. I can steer a cruiser, though I won't enjoy the experience. You should say goodbye to the kids before you go; I'm sure they'd be disappointed if you left without telling them."

"Wouldn't dream of doing so," Anakin said with a smile, clearly much more at ease now that the plague-like topic of Padmé had been dropped without a fight. After Anakin had left on the small Sekot ship, Leia and Luke hurried over to him. It was as if they had planned all along to meet up with Obi-Wan after Anakin left.

Leia said, in her blunt nature, "I guess you really are our Mom. Daddy always told us, and Luke believed it too, but I always held my doubts…" She shrugged. "But now it's official or something, I guess."

"I told you he was our Mother," Luke said, wanting to rub it in that he was correct. "You were just too stubborn to believe it."

Leia ignored his jibe, asking Obi-Wan imploringly, "I'm sorry I didn't believe, Mom. Can you forgive me?"

"It's already been forgiven and forgotten." Obi-Wan smiled kindly at her, although his heart was breaking. Anakin was forcing them all to live lies because he wasn't willing to accept the truth.

* * *

Later on that night in his own room, Obi-Wan was reading some minor articles on the Holonet when something caught his attention. Since he was now more involved in the affairs of the Empire, he tried to keep himself updated. And one never knew what little hints of the real going-ons of the Empire would be buried among the mass of useless words. That was why he paid special attention to the small articles, since truth was often well covered and off to the side.

But the intentions of the article he was currently reading were disturbingly obvious:

_Emperor Vader and Kenobi Become More Than Just Advisor and Leader_

_Apparently Emperor Vader, being such a current man as he is, is in the habit of reading the Holonet. For he has taken me up on my offer (which I had previously extended in one of my other articles) and gave me an exclusive interview on the wedding. He said that he enjoyed reading my other article on this matter, and wished to help me write another one. I am touched by this simple but profound statement. Never have I received a compliment of higher stature. But on with the reason you are reading this:_

_Emperor Vader and Kenobi are now officially married. They did not have the traditional marriage ceremonies, but instead chose to go to Zonama Sekot, more commonly known by its nickname 'the Rogue Planet,' to celebrate by making a Sekot ship with their two children to mark the occasion. There they exchanged rings and vows. After that they went to Naboo to enjoy the wonderful countryside with their twins._

_Emperor Vader spoke very fondly of all this, and it is obvious to tell that he cares very much for Kenobi. After my last interview with Emperor Vader I had become curious of just what their past relationship was. I did some research, and the results surprised me. Emperor Vader and Kenobi were once Padawan and Master (respectively). They were both part of the Jedi Order, which was disbanded due to its disloyalty to the Empire._

_Of course, all know of how Emperor Vader learned of this treachery and gave this information to the predecessor emperor. In fact, he was the one to disband the Order himself._

_But I had no idea that Kenobi had been a Jedi. I was shocked—a former Jedi now being the Main Advisor? How would the Empire fair under such a person? I asked Emperor Vader of this, and he was considerate enough to explain to me:_

"_Obi is now a part of the Empire. While he might have been—and was—on the wrong side before, he has seen the errors of his ways. I can assure you, his loyalties are to the Empire and me, and no longer to the faulty, egregious Jedi Order. You can expect to see greats things from Obi, and from the Empire."_

_The Empire has served us without fail before; I trust that their decisions are wise. If Emperor Vader says that great things will happen, then they will happen. I only hope that we are privileged enough to witness them. I asked what political issues Kenobi was dealing with currently, and Emperor Vader informed me that Kenobi is at present trying to pass a bill in the Imperial Senate that will make slaves illegal on Tatooine. Emperor Vader supports this avidly, as well as does Holonet: this is a worthy cause. It is more proof of the good the Empire is performing in our galaxy._

–_This Holonet article was written by Garle Upit_

Obi-Wan stared at it for a second in shock, before deleting the downloaded article off his comlink and throwing the tiny, innocent machine onto his bed angrily. It bounced thrice on the mattress with a muffled noise before lying there quietly and inconspicuously.

He finally saw the hidden strategy: Anakin was trying to put chains on him. Emotional ones, physical ones, legal ones, and now political ones. Their marriage was no longer a personal matter, but an intergalactic one. When the time came for him to back out of it, people would protest. He'd have supporters of the Empire, people he didn't even know personally, hating him for getting a divorce that didn't even affect them in the _slightest_ way.

Slowly, artfully, he was being tied down. And only now that the ropes were becoming tighter, heavier, and stronger was he realizing their confining existence.

Soon, he feared that movement would be impossible, and his mission failed.


	18. Mutually Beneficial Acquaintanceship

**Reposted 12-19-05:** Thank you so much, **alchemy dream**, for finding that spelling mistake and telling me about it. I really appreciate it.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block: **Grey by **treneka**. This is a Hikaru no Go fic that's rated K+. Treneka does an amazing job of giving her character's real-life personalities. The story has a nice, slow feel to it, and it's more about developing the characters and looking into their minds than anything else. She says that each chapter deals with a cliché, but I can't find all of them (it's because her writing's so good that it's very hard to find anything cliché-like about it). But it is fun to try to find them.

I'm glad you guys liked the change of pace in the last chapter. Of course, I couldn't help but add a little gloom at the end, but that's just me. It was fun to write something a little lighter. I like humor, but sometimes I'm not so sure that I'm good at writing it, since it really is a hit or miss sort of thing.

Thank you for the reviews. A couple of you have asked about why Anakin hasn't questioned Obi-Wan about Skraith and Tarren having lightsabers, and all I can say is that I did this on purpose. But please, if you find anything else that appears to be a plot hole, tell me! Sometimes I do this on purpose, and the reason will come later, but sometimes it's just a bit of thoughtlessness on my part. So don't hesitate to critique me harshly if you see something wrong. I love compliments, but sternness has its merits also.

**Page Amount:** 5 

**Word Count: **4,291

Started 8-7-05 and finished 8-8-05

Listening to: Perfect Circle "Judith"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Eighteen**: Mutually Beneficial Acquaintanceship_

A standard month had come and gone.

Obi-Wan flipped to the next page of a rather large Imperial Senate document. It was all on the requirements necessary in a spacecraft to make it safe for hyperspace travel. Ships had to be of a certain standard before hyperspace engines could be installed into them. After all, the fuel of a hyperengine had some radioactive isotopes in it, and a breaking down of those unstable molecules was the last thing anyone wanted. This was an annual revision of the hyperspace laws to make sure that they kept up with the new technology and times. He put a side note on the page in red ink: _Demanding that all ships should have a second hyperspace engine in the emergency of the first breaking down is impractical and dangerous. Should just have the tools necessary to fix first, standard communications system to call for assistance, and emergency jettison pods with distress signals._

The glories of being 'main advisor.' His only real power was that of advising—which was, when further inspected, not a true power at all. He could persuade, but never act on his own. He felt frustrated at this, as he wanted to change so much in the Empire yet was unable to. Instead, he was stuck with writing side-notes on menial matters of the Senate.

He sensed that Anakin had done this on purpose.

It was like trying to hold onto kernels of sand or playing chess with a supercomputer, this trying to one-up Anakin. The Sith was showing much more insightfulness than Obi-Wan was used to from him…Anakin used to be such a blunt but honest person…

Obi-Wan sighed; a standard month had come and gone, and he was no closer to obtaining his goal. He found himself being stretched thinner and thinner, being tugged in so many directions that sometimes he wondered if he would become completely insubstantial one day. The holy trinity of his life: Temple, Empire, Family.

He snorted, viciously correcting some senator's silly, senseless remark with such force that his pen stabbed through the paper when he dotted his 'i's and crossed his 't's. Siths were fond of triangles and pyramids, of the number 3 (which itself had three points). Their preferred symbols were all unbalanced things, sharp and power-hungry. The Jedi preferred the cube and square due to the shape's equaled and balanced nature. Unlike the pyramid, it had no high point and all sides were equivalent.

Fine, then he'd make the fourth corner of his life this: Mission. Which was true, even though he wasn't making any headway on it.

He threw the finished report in his out box and picked up a new one. This one was about the maintenance and care of endangered species that were kept as pets by registered individuals.

Running a hand through his hair before starting on this report, he wondered if his brain was becoming frazzled. If he was starting to think of his life as a square or triangle, maybe he wasn't getting enough sleep.

'No time for sleep,' he thought groggily. He glanced out the window to see the nightlights glaring liked multicolored, flashy stars. Their artificial brilliance blotted out the true sources of light. He guessed that night had fallen about three hours before; it was surely getting late. 'I have to finish these reports and then see if I can find anything to further my investigation.'

Even though Anakin's visits to the Temple had gradually dwindled to nearly nothing, like a puddle slowly drying up on a summer day, Obi-Wan was adamant about going there every day except Sunday. Because of this, he started his workday at the Imperial Senate building much later than most. Thus, he finished well past the normal work hours. While others were already home and tucked into their beds, he was going over mind-numbing report after mind-numbing report. And once he was finished with those he always wandered the halls for a while, hoping to get a lucky break and find some information on the underhanded dealings of the Empire. Maybe an opened door that was normally locked, a quiet conversation in a nearly empty hall, a dropped datapad. _Anything_.

All these attempts were done in vain, but he couldn't stop trying. He was determined to finish this mission; he would not be deterred by lack of success or sleep-deprivation. As the mission dragged on and time passed, his need to complete it increased. The more he was pressed mentally, the more he pushed back. Since it was he himself doing the pressing, he was also the one pushing himself more and more.

There were other reasons why he kept such late hours and early mornings. He found that since marrying Anakin, he was expected and required to sleep in the same bed. There wasn't even a pretense of separation now: he went straight to Anakin's room at night. Leia and Luke knew that they now shared a room, even if they didn't get the meaning behind it. But Obi-Wan kept such late hours that normally Anakin was already sleeping when he came home. He'd try to sneak into bed unnoticed, but somehow Anakin always knew he was there and woke up. Fortunately, most of the time he only draped an arm over Obi-Wan and mumbled a sleepy 'goodnight' as he snuggled in closer. Obi-Wan tried to wake up earlier than Anakin in the mornings also: sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. More often than not, though, he ate a quick bowl of cereal alone before rushing over to the Temple. No more home-cooked, warm breakfasts for him, or saying goodbye to the twins before leaving.

He could live without that. He'd found out that small comforts like that were expendable. All he had to do was focus on the goal.

The Temple was in a sad state. Everyone was still feeling the effects of Tarren and Skraith's deaths. Carra was looking worse and worse; everyday she seemed thinner, more sunken in, more hollow. She looked as terrible as he felt inside.

Anakin slipped into his office, effectively drawing him out of his reverie when he said softly, "I'm going home now, Obi. Make sure that you don't work yourself to exhaustion, and don't stay too late." He kissed Obi-Wan on the forehead then left. Obi-Wan nodded at Anakin, scratching another bland sentence onto another bland report. It was all just a jumble of white and black and sparse, vibrant patches of scrawled red ink. The letters hardly meant anything. With Anakin gone, his mind instantly sunk inward once again as his body functioned monotonously, finishing the pile of paperwork.

Carra's problems didn't end with physical issues. Her connection to the Force was becoming erratic also; one time in the middle of class she had blurted out, tears in the corner of her eyes, "I can't meditate today! I can't feel it—it's just _not there_!" She had quickly exited the room. Ki'lya had followed swiftly, and Obi-Wan could only hope that the Twi'lek had been able to sooth Carra from her irrational state of mind. It was uncommon, but not unheard of, for a Jedi to temporary lose their connection to the Force during times of depression. He supposed it was better for Carra to be disconnected from the Force than to use those dark feelings in the name of the Dark Side (and perhaps that was an inbuilt defense mechanism of the Jedi, to disassociate themselves from the Force when they felt that they might be tempted to use their powers for evil), but he would still be happy when she found her center of balance again. This behavior was unhealthy.

The whole Temple had taken on an air of gloom. Ki'lya worried about Carra constantly, and her bottom lip was starting to show wear because of it. Darrien was silent as ever, and no comfort could be found in his bizarre temperament. The younger Padawan Learners were also more subdued; they missed Anakin and the twin's animated presence, and they feared what would happen to them in the future—worried that their beloved teacher might never come back. Lilitaa was now well past the age where toddlers learned to speak at least a few words, and still she remained mute. The children lived in a world not of laughter, but of fears.

The only light in this cave of depression was Jarg. Obi-Wan was grateful that Jarg could still remain upbeat after all that had happened. The Gungan was himself in almost all aspects. Perhaps a little more reserved at times, yes, but his optimistic nature could not be dampened. Obi-Wan had once asked Jarg just how he stayed so happy, and Jarg had stared at him in surprise, saying, "Why, messa jus' following yousa advice, Massa Obi-Wan! Messa let go of messa feelings to da Force! Everything will be okasie, yousa see." Jarg then smiled and bumbled away, tripping twice on his own feet and once on poor little Huo.

It was the little things Jarg did and said that made Obi-Wan believe that he would become the best Jedi. He didn't excel in any field, and certainly lacked in quite a few, but his positive nature and good heart made him strong—stronger, perhaps. He had a thoughtless way of putting others before himself, sometimes without even realizing it. When the other younglings laughed at Jarg's funny speech or fighting style, Jarg laughed with them. The others might think he was the least adequate one of them to be a Jedi, but the exact opposite was true; Jarg had a humility and love in his soul that could not be learned from one of life's many lessons.

Obi-Wan finished one report and went onto another. More trivial matters with little to no meaning.

He had learned long ago, when Anakin was his Padawan, that the Master did not stop learning because he was instructing another. Age did not bring knowledge in itself—instructing another did not make oneself immune to mistakes. Anakin, as his Padawan, had taught him that lesson among many others. Now Jarg was re-teaching him old lessons that he had forgotten; when he became frustrated, he tried to reflect Jarg's absolute faith in the Force.

While the Temple atmosphere was dank, he'd take it any day over the Imperial Senate building. It was not just about the mound of paperwork he had to do, but the people who inhabited these walls. One or two he liked; a few had good intentions. But not most. Most sickened him with their overindulgence in the extravagant, with their corrupt nature. But it was not the majority of the senators, with their pompous and greedy nature, that made the hair on his neck stand on end at times. Those people were frivolous and irrelevant, more like dead clogs in the mechanics of the Empire which refused to work with the machine as a whole—rolling whichever way they wanted at whatever time—than destructive forces. They, in their masses of stupidity, had brought down the Republic. And they, in turn, were the ones to slow down the Empire with the same traits of selfishness that had been the downfall of the Republic, which served none but themselves and in the end would abandon them also.

No, they were not the source of discomfort in him. A few of the people who walked the halls radiated pure hate and evil, the darkness rolling off them in oily waves that were thick and suffocating to Obi-Wan. It was as if they had alienated life itself, taking all its wonder and love and joy and twisting it into something foul and bitter, a concoction they forced themselves to drink. These were men and women who killed others coldly or sadistically, who viewed sentient beings not as people but as numbers and statistics. These people had an incurable disease festering underneath their skin.

Yet others didn't seem to feel this, or to even realize that _something_ was wrong with these individuals. They were treated like normal people—even _respected_! And all the while those sick fiends played mind games with the unsuspecting, toying with them, pretending to be as normal as they were assumed to be.

Obi-Wan knew this was all a deception, a beautiful porcelain mask carefully worn over the ugliness breathing inside.

There was always some major component missing in them that made their acting flawed—their eyes a little too harsh, their smile too stiff, a stance too aggressive, a voice too quietly venomous.

Setting down his pen, he gave a relieved smile and allowed a small amount of satisfaction to course through him. He was finally finished with all the documents Anakin had sent him. Even though there would be another mound waiting for him the next day, he could never help feeling accomplished seeing the job done, temporary as it was. He picked up the large stack of papers, intending to carry them over to Anakin's office. He normally left the papers there for Anakin to pick up in the morning. It also gave him a chance to try to open the door, though it was always locked. But the way he saw it, if he kept trying, one day he was bound to get lucky and Anakin would forget to lock up before going home. Nobody was infallible.

Walking down the empty hallway, a voice behind him said cheerfully, "Obi-Wan Kenobi, fancy meeting you here at this time of night!"

Obi-Wan turned around and said stiffly to the smiling, lax man, "Granta Omega." He was one of the people who had evil crawling underneath his skin like millions of tiny parasitical bugs, who breathed through layers of lies. The mask Omega adopted was a cheerful, laidback one, but Obi-Wan was not fooled. He had seen the face it covered, and it was that of a cold-blooded murderer with a mind as keen as a knife.

"Come now, Obi-Wan—or should I be calling you Obi? A new nickname you've picked up, if the quotations from the articles are true." He raised an eyebrow, smiling lazily at Obi-Wan's dark look. "Ahhh…I see; an exclusive name. I suppose Obi-Wan will do, then."

"What do you want?" Obi-Wan demanded bluntly. He did not want to converse with a being like Omega.

"Why the rushed attitude, Obi-Wan?" Omega drawled out, smiling charmingly as he brushed away a strand of raven black hair from his face. "What I want is simply a pleasant conversation. How has the political life been treating you?"

"I have somewhere to be, so if you'll excuse me…" Obi-Wan said, trying to smile. It came out as more of a grimace.

"Yes, of course…very diligent about doing your duties as main advisor, aren't you? But what most people don't know is that you're also very eager to get into Vader's office, always trying that locked door… Perhaps you're not so much the perfect worker everyone thinks you are. From your actions, I know what I think." Omega paused, smiling as he tapped a finger on the side of his head. "Have you found some time in your schedule to talk to me now?"

"I think I just did." Obi-Wan stopped trying to edge around Omega and stood still. From what Obi-Wan gathered…Omega knew what he was up to (or at least that he wanted to get into Anakin's office for some reason), but he had also hinted that other people didn't know this. If Obi-Wan complied and talked to Omega maybe that would remain true.

"Good." Omega stepped in closer and said confidentially, "I've been meaning to talk to you for quite a while. But you're a very hard man to get…a hold of."

"What do you want?" Obi-Wan asked tersely. "You don't do anything without an ulterior motive."

"I'll get to that," Omega said with an insolent smile. "I hope you don't mind me basking in this feeling for a little while longer, though. It's not often that I get the chance to hold something over a Jedi. Normally, they keep—or should I be speaking in past tense now? kept?—their hands too clean for this opportunity to come around. I see that you at least understand that sometimes you need to…dirty…your hands to get what you want." He winked, grinning charmingly; Omega was a very charismatic man when he wanted to be.

But Obi-Wan wasn't going to be drawn in by that charm; there was something Omega wanted, and he wasn't going to let his guard down. Besides, the way Omega said things…they sounded distorted, as if his warped mental process was mirrored in the way he spoke. "I don't understand what you're saying."

"Playing innocent, are we? Don't worry; I won't blow your cover."—that damn smile again, Obi-Wan thought as he gritted his teeth—"It's not in my best interest. I still hate you, you know," Omega said in that same lazy voice, although his blue eyes were sharper now. "You and that master of yours murdered my father."

Even though it was a lie (Xanatos had jumped into the toxic pool on Telos himself; Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon hadn't pushed him in as Omega believed), Obi-Wan didn't say anything in dispute. Nothing he could say would change Omega's carefully cultivated lie.

"But I don't think I want to kill you anymore," Omega continued on when Obi-Wan remained silent. "Pain, yes…humiliation, yes…but death? No." He shook his head. "As always, I keep my priorities straight: business over personal. I have found more important things to occupy my time." He smiled, showing teeth. "Depending on how warm your reception is, they could involve you."

"While I thank you for your generosity, I politely decline," Obi-Wan intoned.

Omega laughed. "Just like a Jedi. Don't you ever stray from that narrow path of yours? Too much discipline can be just as bad as none—with such a tightrope-like line to walk, you're sure to lose your balance and fall eventually. But I'm not here to talk about the fundamentally flawed philosophy of the Jedi. We have some mutual interests, and working together could be beneficial. In more than one way."

"Still trying to unlock the secrets of the Force?" Obi-Wan asked, although he already knew the answer; Omega was fascinated with the Force, especially the Dark Side. Xanatos had been disappointed when his son hadn't been Force-sensitive like he was, and that displeasure had eaten away at Omega. So he had become obsessed with the Force, trying to learn everything he could about the one thing he couldn't obtain. Even though his father was dead, Omega still couldn't shake off his need to prove himself to his father.

"Yes, that too." His eyes, the color of blue durasteel, flashed. The smile slinked into a smirk.

"I think I just ran out of time. Now if you'll excuse me…" Obi-Wan brushed past Omega.

"Of course," Omega said. "Can't waste your precious time. In fact… I think I'll give you a hand. There's no way you can turn down free help—but know that this is a once in a lifetime offer. I don't habitually do manual labor." Omega plucked the top half of documents from Obi-Wan's full arms, carrying them as he followed Obi-Wan.

"I don't want you to change your habits for me," Obi-Wan said brusquely. "Please, allow me to go on by myself. This is my job."

"And this is my pleasure," Omega countered smoothly. "I have no problem with carrying a stack of papers. Think of this as me trying to broaden my horizons."

"I thought you enjoyed the view from your suite. Why look any farther than that?" Obi-Wan's voice held the sneer if his face didn't.

"Didn't I already allude to this earlier?" Omega mused. "I cannot simply wash my hands clean. Power and corruption come hand in hand. I do not blind myself to the underside of life; I am always expanding my interests." He smiled. "That is how I got my suite in the first place."

"People like you sicken me." Obi-Wan marched ahead, trying to ignore his unwanted companion.

"Ditto." Omega smiled.

Silence ensued for a while, and all that could be heard was their pair of muffled footsteps on the carpeted floor. Lights set on low power to conserve electricity lit the hallway at intervals, making their shadows split into two or three moving beings at a time. They met no living being on their way, and only passed briefly by a dingy cleaning droid vacuuming the floor with decrepit movements.

Finally, Obi-Wan couldn't help but ask, "…People like _you_ or like _me_?"

"Both," Omega answered, "I hate your people's pride and disdain for others. You think you're always right and they're always wrong. You stick your nose where it doesn't belong and act righteous as you do it. And as for the other part…I just hate competition." That charming smile temporarily flared to life again before returning to the grave, allowing the marble mask to settle in.

They came to Anakin's office. Obi-Wan set his stack of papers down, and Omega did the same. "Well, I'll be off now…thank you for the assistance," Obi-Wan said as politely as he could (which was more ungracious than gracious). He started to walk away, but Omega's words stopped him.

"What if I told you that I could open this door?" he asked as he rapped his knuckles lightly on the wood doorframe.

Obi-Wan turned around, scrutinizing Omega. "I'd tell you that it didn't concern me."

"Then why are you still here?" Omega pointed out with a smile. When Obi-Wan didn't move, he went on, "My argument holds. If you care to stick around, we may become companions in crime. I have the codes required to open his door. It's a very complex code, I must say…one that could take you years to figure out on your own. And if you mess up even once, then, well—you're as good as dead. Security droids will be infesting this hallway like a bunch of cockroaches before you can even say 'holy hell.' Safe to say, you can kiss the good life goodbye."

"You seem confident in your abilities. Why do you need me?" Obi-Wan crossed his hands over his chest.

"Insurance," Omega whispered. "You may think that I am a friend of the Emperor, but you'll soon learn that he has no friends. Except for you, it seems, _Obi_. He's very fond of you. If we get caught, and you're my accomplice, I'm much more likely to get a lighter punishment than otherwise. An infinite time in prison sounds much better than the chopping block, don't you agree?" He slit a finger across his throat in crude emphasis.

"I think I'm starting to see the picture," Obi-Wan said slowly, thinking as he talked, "A temporary alliance may be favorable for both of us."

"I knew you'd see the light," Omega said cheerfully, smile back in place.

"Just what is it that you're looking for, Omega?" Obi-Wan interrogated.

"The same thing you are, Obi-Wan. Information." A greedy gleam entered his eyes. "We might even be plotting to use it for the same purpose."

Obi-Wan snorted, unable to hold in his contempt. "I highly doubt that."

Omega arched an eyebrow. "Don't get too high-and-mighty on me now. You are no longer a Jedi; stop acting like one. Times change, people change. And keep this in mind before you ridicule me again; I'm the one holding the upper hand here. Codes, remember?" Obi-Wan glowered at him silently. Omega smiled, returning to his former train of thought, "Yes, I think we are planning the same thing."

"Oh, and what is that?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to hide the scorn and curiosity in his voice.

"The downfall of an empire." He winked. "As long as your plans don't conflict with mine, perhaps our partnership can be extended past this one night. Your influence with the Emperor and my wealth could go a long way. Together, we could unlock opportunities otherwise unavailable."

"One night is enough for me," Obi-Wan stated flatly.

"Really. Huh." Omega shrugged indifferently. "Do as you please, I guess. But if our plans do coincide, you might be seeing me in the near future. And if _my_ plans are successful, you might want to reconsider my offer of friendship. Well, I wouldn't really call it _friendship_." Omega gave a smile that didn't reach his cold blue eyes. "More like a mutually beneficial acquaintanceship."

"I'll take my chances."

"Indeed, you will. You're taking them right now. I'm taking a bit of a gamble myself; I can't know if these codes will work until we try them out. And one try is all you get."

"So you mentioned before."

"So you have been listening!" Omega exclaimed happily. "Well, best try them and wish for good fortune. But just in case, say your prayers if you have any, or if you believe in any god." He flipped out a datapad and began to type the numbers and letters written on it into the small number pad by the door.

"I don't pray," Obi-Wan said.

"Me neither," Omega replied, still typing in a complex chain of digits into the security device.

Even though Obi-Wan gave his anxiety to the Force, he couldn't help feeling a bit of dread. He was prepared for the worse, but wished for the best. This could be his big break…the end could be near…

"Aha! Only a few more now…" Omega said. He typed in the last digits. "Done!" They waited tensely, straining their ears for either the screech of an alarm system or the quiet, beautiful sound of a lock unlocking.


	19. Decoders and Datasticks

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block: **Butterfly in Reverse by **bite the hand that feeds**. This Naruto fic is rated M and involves yaoi. This fic does a wonderful job of portraying the ninja life realistically. I really admire bit the hand that feeds for being able to do that. And honestly, some of the things she's able to think up… One must wonder if she is not a ninja herself… But this fic is really good, and I heartily suggest reading it.

Not too much happened in the last chapter… The chapter mostly just filled in what had happened during the last month, and introduced the newest player to the field. Omega was fun to write—I find him alarmingly similar to Palpatine. I guess I just enjoy writing about villains who hide their evil under masks of one nature or another.

Thank you for all the encouraging reviews. And Alley, no, I didn't know that Omega died. I've read most of the books in the Jedi Quest series except two, three, and ten (I think), so I haven't gotten to that yet. It's a good thing that my fic's AU, isn't it? ;) But thank you for pointing that out. Please, if you find facts that contradict the regular Star Wars universe, tell me. Some of it might be my intentional AU at work, but sometimes I just make stupid mistakes. Your reviews help me to make less of them, and for that I am eternally grateful to you guys. Read and enjoy.

**Page Amount: **7

**Word Count: **4,712

Written 8-8-05

Listening to: Coheed and Cambria "In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Nineteen**: Decoders and Data-sticks_

_Click_.

The door popped open slightly. Omega released a breath and said with relief, "I knew my source was reliable."

"You didn't look too convinced of their trustworthiness a few seconds ago," Obi-Wan retorted. While he was just as thankful as Omega that the codes were genuine, that didn't mean that he was going to act any more courteous to the power-hungry human.

Omega shrugged. "A bit of suspicion is healthy. It allows one to live a prosperous and, most importantly, _long_ life." He propped the door open the rest of the way. A faint line of hallway light snaked into the shadowed room. It created a thick rectangular bar of dull yellow light that shot across the carpet and bent at a right angle to scale partway up the desk. "Now comes the fun part." He grinned, still holding the door open, and said politely, "After you."

Obi-Wan entered the room cautiously, not knowing if there was a reason why Omega offered for him to go first. Was there a secret trap that was touch activated? Or an alarm he could accidentally spring? But nothing happened; no alarms, no deathtraps. It was almost so simple as to make him feel on edge—but then again, he had to remind himself, Anakin kept most of his important work in his home building, and what was left here probably wasn't worth guarding. "It's clear."

"You know, I offered for you to come in first out of common courtesy. Not because I thought there was something wrong with this room and decided to put you up for the slaughter." Omega sauntered casually into the room, flicked on the overhead light, and headed straight towards the computer. "Just thought you'd like to know."

He turned on the computer and began typing in commands as soon as the machine warmed up—which, due to advance technology leading to the super-refinement of the integrated circuits in computers, took a matter of seconds. His eyes scanned file after file, and Obi-Wan could tell that he was becoming more and more frustrated by the single line that creased between his brows. But still he continued typing, searching.

The computer already occupied, Obi-Wan began to search the desk itself. He flipped through a couple drawers, barely giving them more than a cursory glance until a small datapad caught his attention, halfway hidden under a manila folder. He grabbed the wafer-thin data holder and turned it on. The password was surprising easy—Leia—and before no time he was shifting through its data. He found a calendar, which showed him where and when Anakin was going to be at any given date for the next couple months or so. In each little block that symbolized a day, times and places were written right by each other. Everything was simple, organized, and un-descriptive. Even though no other details were given, this alone could be enough to catch Anakin off guard… Having a starting place to build off of, the Jedi Order could dig around more and find out what Anakin was doing in those places.

This could be the lead they needed.

"Ooo…" Omega whistled, looking over Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan repressed a twitch; he hadn't sensed Omega's nearing presence until the man was practically breathing down his neck. Which was understandable; Omega was what the Jedi called a void, a being who could shield his or her force signature even though they couldn't voluntarily manipulate the Force. It was more as if they completely repelled it than used it to cloak themselves. Voids were like magnets, a negative end that couldn't click with the positive energies of the Force. It was hard to tell that Omega was there, except when visibly seen. Obi-Wan didn't like the feeling, as he was so attuned to the Force that he depended on it and his eyesight equally. He felt like he was half-blind when around Omega, and therefore at an enormous disadvantage.

"That could be of some use," Omega said, hands greedily reaching for it.

"I found it," Obi-Wan said, holding the datapad out of Omega's reach. "I believe I'm entitled to keep it."

"But I found nothing on the computer…you can't expect me to just agree to something like that when I have nothing myself. This expedition has to be profitable for both of us, if you want me to keep silent about your own little excursions."

Seeing no other choice, Obi-Wan reluctantly let Omega scan through the datapad. He said sardonically, "And here I thought we were 'companions in crime.' What thin ties to loyalty you have."

"The less strings you attach yourself to, the less likely you are to hang," Omega said absently as he flipped through the dates. "So you say that those strings hold you up, make you a better person—give you dignity, honor, trust, and friendship. So what?" Omega sneered, his voice scornful at the fools who believed such lies. His eyes were still flickering back and forth as he read the information on the calendar. "I'd rather have nothing holding me up at all and be at the rock bottom. There's no way to fall any lower then"—he chuckled morbidly, flipping the datapad closed—"and no way to get injured."

"One could say that you are the most hurt of them all," Obi-Wan said quietly, taking the offered datapad back. He slipped it into his pants pocket.

Omega snarled, "None of your Jedi philosophy shit. I don't need that. I live my life my way, and I don't give a damn what you think." The inner anger scuttled back behind the civil mask as Omega gained back his restraint, and he said pleasantly, "I got what I needed; you can keep it."

Obi-Wan nodded. "We should get out, then. The more time we spend here, the more likely we are to be noticed." He popped his head out of the door, looking both ways before slipping out quietly like a cat between two fence posts.

"Spoken wisely! I concur," Omega agreed cheerfully, exiting after he turned off the lights. He shut the door behind him, and its _click_ resounded in the empty hallway. "Well, it was a pleasure doing business with you, and if you ever want to hook up again I can leave you my comlink num—"

"Obi-Wan? is that really you?" a joyful voice cut Omega off mid-sentence.

"How rude," Omega sniffed as he straightened his coat, glaring less than discreetly at the intruder. His blue durasteel eyes looked as hard as the metal their color emulated.

"Tyro? My dear friend, it's been far too long since the last time I saw you!" Obi-Wan cried out happily as he hugged his old friend. He hadn't seen Tyro Caladian in so long—more than six standard years at the least. The last that he had seen of Tyro, he was still a senate aide. While he didn't have much political power, he had been a great help to Obi-Wan in the past, obtaining information for him when he needed it. People tended to overlook Tyro because of his unimportant status, and that was their downfall. "How have you been?"

"The usual…same occupation…same old, stuffy senators to deal with. Several times I've wanted to quit, but I just can't bring myself to—I simply don't know where else I'd work. And then when I heard that you had gotten into the business yourself," Tyro paused to chuckled, "I knew if I hung around for long enough, we'd run into each other. After all, main advisor and senate aid are on about the same level of power. Except you might get more paperwork than me…and undeniable more pixel time…"

Obi-Wan grimaced. "I'm sick of it and I've only been at it for about a month. How have you lived with this for more than a decade? I would scream if I'd had to deal with senators for that long."

"Extreme willpower and determination. And several harmless voodoo dolls to stab occasionally." They laughed at that, now having a few more inside jokes to share because of their mutually hated jobs.

"Does it ever work?" Obi-Wan wondered.

"No, not really," Tyro admitted, grinning. "But it helps get rid of frustration in a—for the most part—nonviolent way. But I do like to secretly think that when senators complain of sore backs it's my doing. It's my only source of fun during a tedious, ten-hour day."

An idea clicked in Obi-Wan's head: Tyro had been successful in getting him information in the past, so maybe… "Tyro, I have a favor to ask…"

"What do you need?" Tyro asked, his face grave, sensing that what Obi-Wan was about to say was serious. "I'll help you however I can."

"I need information on the Empire."

Tyro snorted, rubbing a hand on his furry face. "There's plenty of that. If you have something specific in mind, you'll have to narrow down my search. What exactly is it that you're looking for?"

"Something big. Something that, if it got out, could end the Empire," Obi-Wan whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer to Tyro. There was no telling how many cameras were watching, and he wanted to give them as little as possible to work with. The less they recorded, the better. He only hoped that the digital recordings, if in fact there were any, weren't of a fine enough quality for lip-reading.

"Wait a second…_this_ guy can get us something like _that_?" Omega asked, suddenly becoming interested. While before he'd been standing around, bored, now he leaned in and inserted himself into the conversation. They created a very clandestine group of three.

Tyro stared at Omega, distrust evident in his eyes. "Can we trust him? I know his kind."

Obi-Wan sighed. "No, but it's better to include him anyways. He might come in handy with unlocking files; he already broke through the code on Skywalker's door. And if we don't bring him along…our conversation might be leaked to the wrong people." Tyro nodded, although he showed the same reluctance that Obi-Wan felt. Omega was a wild card.

"Right you are," Omega said cheerfully. "Now that that's settled, how about you two let me in on your conversation, and stop talking about me liked I can't hear you when I can? You could at least _try_ to be discreet about it…" Omega jockeyed until he was the focus point of the group. "Now, just what can you get us?"

Tyro stared at Omega, clearly disgruntled at being commanded by this rich, falsely friendly villain. He had to deal with too much of that during his work hours, and he wasn't going to willingly put up with it on his free time. He turned back to Obi-Wan, pointedly ignoring Omega. "The Empire's been busier than normal. Something's happening, and it's gotten all the key figures of the Empire very excited, whatever 'it' is. I think that they've been planning it a long time, and only now is their goal in sight."

"Can you find out what it is that they're planning?"

"I can try. You know how I've always been a supporter of the Republic, even when it was at its weakest—the Empire is just downright wrong, the political devil, and it needs to be stopped. I can't do much in my position, lest they find out that I've been meddling in affairs not belonging to me, but I have been keeping trackers on specific computers… They're the computers of important people, and I can tell exactly which files they access. All I have to do is a cross-reference of all those people, and see which file they've all been checking on the most. The hard part would be to actually open that record…I'm sure it's got the best security defenses possible; codes, firewalls, jammers…my computer could possibly freeze in mid-process of decoding everything… My tracking device isn't top rate, certainly nothing black-market quality, and it only knows which files leave and enter, or are _opened_, on the computer, not the actual content…"

Tyro mumbled something more, his eyes darting back and forth as he thought out everything in his head. Finally, he nodded decisively. "It'll take a while, but I think I can break into it."

"Maybe I could be of some assistance in that arena," Omega said with a small smile. "As our mutual friend said, I am good at breaking into locked files."

Tyro stared at him, saying skeptically, "Really…"

"Do you know the rare but sometimes occurring incident of a planet's entire treasury being stolen?" Omega asked.

Tyro's eyes widened. Omega smiled, and said no more.

"Let's get going," Omega said, all business. He started to walk away, before he turned his head back, saying, "Uh…where are we going?" He smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his black hair.

Obi-Wan knew that Omega's playful act was just that—an act. If Tyro's expression meant anything, then Tyro knew that also. Good…it wouldn't do for his friend to trust Omega. Tyro walked in the opposite direction of Omega. He said politely, "Please follow me. Try not to rush; we don't want to seem suspicious."

It was kind of difficult not to, though, when the main advisor (a former Jedi to boot), a close associate of the Emperor with a shady background, and an unknown senate aid were all conversing with each other. They were a conspicuous group, and would have been even in the middle of day with the halls jammed full of people rushing to and fro in a mad frenzy. That they were in an empty hallway made them just that much more of an eyesore to normality.

Soon they were in the smaller, less prestigious hallways of the Imperial Senate building. Boxes of reports needing to be filed away or incinerated cluttered the halls. Lighting was at a minimum—bulbs were spread out over wider distances and had lower watts. Doors didn't have nameplates on them, only numbers. Most of the bronze nameplates were tarnished, hanging precariously on the walls as if their nails were rock climbers who couldn't find secure footing on the steep slope. A few were proudly polished, and it could be seen that these were good individuals who cared about their work, but seeing these were like the rare sighting of a four-leaf clover.

"I've never been back here…" Omega said, looking all around him as he took in the sights, paltry as they were.

"Most senators and wealthy people don't visit these parts of the building," Tyro said frostily. "It is no surprise that you are like the rest."

"Now, that's a little harsh. I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Not of your own free will."

"Oh, but this is of my free will. I willingly came here. I ask you to willingly give me a chance." Omega gave Tyro a meaningful look.

"No," Tyro said instantly.

"Then at least work with me like a professional," Omega cajoled.

"Have a lot of those in your line of work, don't you?" Tyro sniffed disdainfully.

"Tyro…I don't like him either. But we have to work with him," Obi-Wan said tiredly. "Please try to be agreeable. I don't want to have to deal with an argument right now. We have more impending and important matters to deal with."

"Once again, Obi-Wan's wisdom rings the truth." Omega nodded his approval. "I'll refrain from saying any comments that could be taken as an insult if Tyro will agree to do the same. Although I might have to become mute, the way he takes everything."

Tyro shot him a look before proceeding to lead them on silently. They came to a numbered door, one of the rare polished ones; and it was at this one that Tyro stopped. _1221_, it read. He stepped into his office, a small, cluttered space. Fit snuggly against all the boxes of papers was a desk with a computer on it. The Svivreni resituated some datasheets lying on the chairs so that the three of them could sit. He turned on his computer, waited several minutes for the sleepy machine to wake up, and started typing as soon as it was completely online. The lighting was just as dim in this room as without, and the computer's screen glowed eerily because of it, by far the strongest illumination in the room. It flickered many colors, blue, white, yellow, green, even red a few times, as Tyro let his system run, going over all the files that had been used recently by the computers his tracking instrument tapped into.

Finally, the computer's lights stopped flashing as it settled on a red screen, words written across it with obvious meaning: ACCESS DENIED.

"This is it," Tyro said with certainty. "All of them have been on this one more than once…and Darth Vader in particular has been here often. My computer wasn't able to crack open its defenses with its routine codebreaker, but at least it didn't break. None of the typical passwords worked, and running a random system of letters and numbers and symbols could take forever to get the right sequence…" Tyro bit his lip in frustration. "I'm worried that if we try too many random codes, someone will find out that I've tapped into their files and trace it back to this computer. Or we'll trigger some sort of virus to attack our computer… And either way, you can bet your boots that we'll be in a lot of trouble…"

Omega scooted his chair closer, cracking his knuckles. "This is where I prove my worth," he said, determination in his eyes as he scanned the file. "If you would step back…" Tyro pulled his chair away from the computer so that Omega could reach the keyboard more easily from his sitting position. "Thank you."

Before he could start, however, Obi-Wan exclaimed and pulled something out of his pocket. "Will this help?" He held up his decoder—the one Anakin had fortunately missed when he had gotten rid of the rest of Obi-Wan's 'unwanted' items. Obi-Wan had kept it with him ever since he'd started making these late-night rounds. He'd tried using it on Anakin's office door once (to no affect—but at least the alarms didn't go off then, so he was lucky in that aspect at least). He had sensed that it would come in handy, and that was why he kept it near him at all times. Perhaps that time was now.

"This would definitely make my job easier. I'd be able to do it otherwise, but this'll cut the time in half." Omega smiled at Obi-Wan, an excited glint in his eyes. "Now let's see what it is that they're so eager to hide."

Omega started to type on the keyboard. The screen flashed as fast as his speeding fingers, jumping from this to that screen at dizzying speeds. Omega typed in commands manually at a speed that blurred his fingers. He had to be thinking extremely fast for the screens to be whizzing past so rapidly. Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel impressed, despite the fact that Omega was a cold and ruthless criminal; here was a mastermind at work. This was the intelligence that had built up Omega's fortune of wealth—and allowed him to keep it.

The red screen once more returned to the fore, it's unchanged message spanning across the monitor. Omega typed in another command, and the red screen blinked out. The computer screen returned to black, and the room fell into near darkness. Only a single, small desk light kept the room's blackness from being absolute. Obi-Wan saw white-lights as his eyes tried desperately to adjust to the sudden darkness after so many brilliant, neon pixel colors.

Omega was smiling triumphantly, teeth stark against such a dark background, and he kept smiling even when Tyro growled out, "You just broke it!"

"It's not broken," Omega said confidentially. "You have a holoprojector hooked up to the computer, right?"—Tyro nodded—"Turn it on."

Although Tyro was extremely annoyed by the impolite order, he did so. A red sphere hovered in the air. "A moon?" Tyro asked, studying the rotating projectile. "It has a large crater on its upper hemisphere."

"Very observant," Omega said dryly, but in a way that one couldn't be exactly sure of how to respond to the insult. "But it's not exactly a moon. It's a battle station. And that crater is in fact an enormous laser. _This_ is the Empire's latest weapon—160 kilometers in diameter, a superlaser with the firepower to blow up a planet, and enough weapons attached to its exterior and aircrafts stored in its hangers to arm a small planet—and the amount of people that can live on it can be safely compared to that. This is the ultimate weapon. Name is the Death Star. Welcome to a dictator's perfect dream."

"Is this even possible?" Obi-Wan asked, confounded by the idea. To have such an obscenely excessive amount of firepower and brutality packed into one overwhelmingly large, behemoth battle station…it seemed such a waste.

"It's more than just a possibility; construction is already under way. It's estimated to be completed in a few standard Coruscanti years; a decade at the worse, should unexpected complications arise." Omega stared at the enormous station for a moment, an unreadable look in his eyes. He pulled out two data-sticks from his pocket. He plugged both into the computer and typed in some codes. He then took them out and threw one at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan, moving instinctively, caught it, even though he was unprepared and not focused on the flying object. Looking at the data-stick in his hands, he asked, "What is this for?"

"It's a copy of all their plans, updates, and correspondences among themselves; blueprints of the Death Star, progress reports of the actual building of it; statistics, estimations of power, stimulation test results. Namely, that data-stick holds in it everything about the Death Star that you could want to know—and then some. Think of this as my repayment to you, for letting me borrow your decoder." He tossed his own data-stick in his hand, making it twirl in the air before catching it expertly. "And I've got its twin right here."

Tyro said quietly, awed and fearful, "I can't believe they're building something like that…"

"I can," Obi-Wan said. That was the sad thing of it.

"Isn't that the truth." Omega got up from the chair. "I must be going now. But thank you for all your help, Tyro. I will not forget this; I owe you one. And I assure you…I always repay my debts. What is your full name?"

"Tyro Caladian," Tyro said proudly, not caring if it was foolish to hand over his full name to a criminal.

Omega nodded; it was obvious that he was committing the name to memory. He slipped out of the room as Obi-Wan began saying his goodbyes to Tyro. It was always hard for him to say goodbye to good friends.

"May the Force be with you, Tyro." Obi-Wan said with regret, "I shall miss you."

"We Svivreni do not say goodbye; it is considered bad luck. We say, _the journey begins, so go_." He raised his hands, his fingers spread apart in the Svivreni gesture of goodbye. Obi-Wan did the same with his hand, and Tyro pressed their palms together. It was a gesture used by the Svivreni to those closest to them. He said quietly in farewell, "The journey begins, so go."

And Obi-Wan did.

Omega was waiting outside, and his departing words to Obi-Wan were, "If you ever feel the need to get away, or want to work together again, here's my card. _Keep it where no one will see_." The last sentence was hissed with urgency as Omega shoved a card into Obi-Wan's jacket pocket. Obi-Wan felt the weight of his returned decoder also.

"I'll keep it hidden with my decoder and your data-stick—no one will find it," Obi-Wan assured Omega. Although he'd never use the card, he'd keep it…just in case. But hopefully the mission was nearly over now, and the card would no longer be useful. He would be glad of the day that he could toss it in the incinerator. Truly, when that day came, he would finally be done with this whole mess.

Omega relaxed. "Good. If your decoder hasn't been taken away from you yet, it's likely that you've got yourself a prime hiding spot." He chuckled. "I just don't want certain…people…to find out that we've had dealings together. They might not be so receptive of that idea; we could both be put in a lot of danger. I like my transactions to be secretive. Less trouble later on."

"May the Force be with you," Obi-Wan intoned automatically in farewell.

Omega stared at him, a half-wistful, half-resentful expression in his durasteel blue eyes. "I wish." He left abruptly.

* * *

Obi-Wan tried to sneak into bed quietly, slipping the covers over him with barely a whisper of a sound. But still, he felt an arm slip over his side as Anakin drew him nearer, snuggling in close. He mumbled sleepily into Obi-Wan's neck, "You're back particularly late tonight."

"Why aren't you asleep?" Obi-Wan asked in a voice equally hushed. He didn't try to fight the hold.

"I couldn't fall asleep with you gone." Anakin kissed Obi-Wan's neck before resting his forehead against his hair, breathing in the scent. He mumbled into Obi-Wan's head, "I like knowing that you're right beside me when I go to sleep. It's comforting to me."

"I'm here now," Obi-Wan whispered back soothingly in a melodic voice, wanting Anakin to fall back asleep; that would mean less conversation, less questions. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Anakin's arm faintly strengthened its hold, drawing tighter around him like a slowly awakening boa constrictor, and his voice became a bit clearer. "What were you doing with Omega and…that's a signature I haven't felt in a while…not since my Padawan days…is it really Tyro's?"

Obi-Wan was surprised that Anakin knew. His brain panicked a little, and all sorts of worst-turn scenarios started popping up in his head against his command. He tried to say calmly, "Yes. But how did you know?" His breath hitched slightly, and he tried to level it out.

"I can sense residue of their force signatures on your body. I'm good at singling out different force signatures, and if I've met the person before I'm usually able to figure out to whom the signature belongs." Anakin yawned; the action caused his breath to mist over Obi-Wan's skin, making it tingle where the hot air hit. He asked again, more sharply, "What were you doing with them?"

"Omega I just ran into in the hall. I didn't really talk to him…you know I don't like that man… But Tyro was a pleasant surprise. We accidentally bumped into each other, and we talked for a while. We were catching up and lost track of time. That's why I'm home later than usual."

"…I see…" Anakin nuzzled his nose into Obi-Wan's hair. "Obi…you trust me, right?"

"Where did that come from?" Obi-Wan asked in an amused voice.

The arm tightened a little more. "But you trust me, don't you?"

"Yes, Ani, I trust you."

"With your life?"

"Yes."

"And can I trust you with my life?"

"Of course you can, Ani."

"Would you ever lie to me?"

Purposely side-stepping the question, Obi-Wan countered it by saying, "What's with all these questions?"

"Nothing," Anakin responded. Although his hold didn't loosen, his body relaxed against Obi-Wan's. After a few minutes of silence he confessed suddenly, "I love you so much that sometimes it hurts."

"Love shouldn't hurt," Obi-Wan said softly. "I love you, but not to the point of pain."

"I know." Anakin's body pressed up closely to Obi-Wan, as if to make them one person. His arm was a warm, living cage that Obi-Wan could not escape. Anakin's mind wrapped around him—he could feel the Force swirling around them—blocking them from the rest of the world. Like with a blanket, this feeling could invoke two very different sensations—or more to say, could have two very different purposes.

Warmth or suffocation.


	20. Temple

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block:** Frank by **The Water Daemon**. This Neopets fic is rated M, is m/f, and does involve a lot of drug usage. Honestly, this fic is amazing. If you're into Neopets, this story provides an explanation for how a lot of things got to be in the 'real' Neopian world. It really enriched the experience of reading the fic. But even if you were clueless to Neopets, this story would be a good read. The characters are so vivid and intense, and the story's wording so intricate and unique, that I was instantly hooked after reading the first paragraph. Seriously.

I had fun writing the last chapter. It was nice having two new characters to 'play' with, and Obi-Wan, Omega, and Tyro definitely make a motley group. I wanted to tie the Death Star into everything, and when I was writing that last chapter it struck me that that was the perfect place to put it. I mean, what else would get the Empire so excited, if not a huge, moon-sized weapon of mass destruction? Oh, and Alley, under the alias of Shadow Padawan, was kind enough to tell me that Tyro also dies sometime in the JQ novels. So I guess I should state this: both Tyro and Omega are property of Jude Watson, and I have resurrected them for the purpose of my AU story.

_Merci beaucoup_ for the reviews, I love reading them. This chapter is short (sorry about that), but it's got some important information in it. However, I'm not sure if my explanations of events are reasonable or absurd, as it's sometimes hard to explain things to a point where everything fits together smoothly. So if you see any gaps in logic, or wonder 'now, why the heck did this happen? It seems so much more realistic for _that_ to happen…' please tell me, and I'll try to fix things up. This is a chapter where feedback is especially loved and needed. Well, I hope you enjoy it.

**Page Amount: **4

**Word Count: **3,053

Written 8-9-05

Listening to: Good Charlotte "The World is Black"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Twenty**: Temple_

Obi-Wan meditated with the children of the Temple. But although the children were a great source of comfort for him, this was not his true reason for coming to the temple this time. He was waiting for Yoda to contact him. Earlier this morning he had given a small speech on the values and merits of the Empire. At the end he had said, 'The Empire is a force to be reckoned with.' Hopefully, Yoda was listening and would get the message. If not, then he had become a suck-up to the Empire for no reason. It was embarrassing enough how he had gushed. Honestly, he had felt like a geyser, unable to stop the flow of overly flattering words to a cause that deserved none. He hoped it wasn't broadcasted on many stations…just enough of them for Yoda to find it.

His comlink shuddered in his pocket, and he excused himself from the deathly silent room. Going to the next room over, he clicked it on, saying, "It's good to see you, Yoda. I have something important to tell you."

"Indeed, hope I do that you are correct. Or else wasted on the Empire compliments were," Yoda said, amused at how excessively Obi-Wan had spewed flattery at the Empire. Even when joking, he looked older than ever, lines running across his face like roots snaking across the ground. "Very enthusiastic, you were, and entertaining to watch. Sure you are that you are not on the Empire's side?"

Yoda's jokes did not have a forced quality to them, but the light humor in his eyes was diminished, and his teasing was not quite the same as it had once been—ever since the Clone Wars it had changed, and recent events only furthered the obviousness of that change. The humor was still there, the witty remarks with gentle chidings and lessons waiting to be discovered in them, but something was…missing. Obi-Wan couldn't really say, or understand, more than that.

"Haha…very funny… I was worried that I had overdone it. How in star's name do you compliment a dictatorship?" Obi-Wan frowned. "I think I repeated the same sentence of the 'Emperor's amazing leadership abilities' over three times, only with different wording. And then I ran out of original ideas and started using clichés. Those seemed to work, but I felt so…well, I suppose the only word to describe it is…corny. Which isn't the greatest adjective to begin with."

"See I do, now, why aired on so many stations it was. Compliments to the Emperor seem to always find their way to the many listening ears of the public." Yoda smiled, finding Obi-Wan's embarrassment humorous, just as a grandfather finds the exaggerated antics of his grandchildren amusing and wonderfully refreshing.

Obi-Wan groaned. "Really, it aired on a lot of stations? I was avoiding watching the Holonet and any other government-related transmissions for just that purpose. I didn't want to have to watch myself…I would be horrified. I made myself out to be a complete idiot."

"Only incompetent," Yoda said comfortingly, still smiling.

"Oh. That's _much_ better. Thank you for the consolation." But Obi-Wan did return Yoda's smile with a grin of his own. However, soon his expression darkened. "Before I tell you my news…I have something that I've been wanting to ask you…"

"Ask it, then," Yoda said patiently, shifting his grip on his well-worn gimer stick as he prepared himself for a confrontation. The humor in his eyes melted away, leaving only the solemnity.

"Why did you keep those—those _things_ in the storage closets? Force, Yoda, what do Sith Holocrons and lightsabers have to do with being a Jedi!" Obi-Wan asked angrily. "I repeated your warning to Tarren, word for word, not even knowing what I was warning him about! You gave those keys to me and didn't tell me a thing…and then I did the same to Tarren… If you had forewarned me, I might have been able to prevent what happened. _They didn't have to die_."

"Would have changed events, you say?" Yoda closed his eyes, a weary frown on his face. "No, nothing different would have come had I told you. Only aware of the darkness ahead would you be. Better it was for you to focus on the present, than worry about unchangeable events. Often blind you are to the Living Force when thoughts of the Unifying Force arise. Jeopardized your mission you would surely had done in your anxiety, and then the Force would have had to receive the spirits of more than just two Jedi."

"You knew about this? You knew what the outcomes of your decisions were?" Obi-Wan exclaimed, outraged. If Yoda had knowingly sacrificed his younglings…

"No. Only glimpses of dark times did I see. Decipher specific events I cannot. A blanket of evil cloaks my sight, and I am left with only guesses and possibilities." Yoda opened his eyes, the lines on his face deeper than before. The sagging flesh around his eyes only enlarged the two orbs, making their green more luminous and intense from their sufferings—he had the gaze of the wise owl, who's only question left unanswered was '_who?_' "Fear I do that the Light Side will be smothered completely under this darkness."

"I get the same feeling at times," Obi-Wan agreed, unable to stay the shiver that ran its cold claw down his spine. It worried him. If _he_ could sense it, then he couldn't begin to fathom the coming darkness Yoda, with his greater attunement to the future, must be feeling…but Yoda also had a stronger heart, and could hold up better. He'd never known the old Master to lose hope before, and he didn't expect to see that happen in the future. "But I also wanted to know…why couldn't I sense the evil in the storage closets? Or the good, for that matter?"

"Balance each other out, they do. The light blights out the dark, the dark conceals the light. Together, when in perfect harmony, invisible they become."

"Why do you even keep those things in there? To keep something so grotesquely evil in the heart of good…it's like you let a parasite into the core of the Jedi spirit, and allowed it to gorge itself on our innately good energy. I trust there is a purpose in all this, and that is why I have not removed them from the Temple yet…but for me to continue to house these relics of the Sith, you must tell me the reason _why_."

"Afford to ignore the Dark Side, we cannot. Have knowledge on all sides of the Force, we must. Come to understand you will that you must learn all truths, or else you will have learned nothing. Keep the cubes and pyramids we did, and learned from them we have. These dark holocrons, created from the hope of enhancing the darkness in the galaxy, have become our weapon with which to fight it. For from these holocrons learned we did how to fight the enemy, their motives and weaknesses.

"Knows all paths of the Force a true Jedi does—the Dark Side, the Light Side, and all grays in-between—and once seeing all the trails, chooses to walk the path of good. For the heart cannot be completely dedicated to a cause that it has not chosen willingly, once seen it has all the other options. To be tempted by great evil, and to have the willpower to spurn that advance, is what makes a Jedi great. Young an untested hero is, and apt to make mistakes for all his glory and quick righteousness. The modestly clad man who walks quietly among the darkness, who sees the bleakness around and strengthens his own light because of it in the hopes of guiding others, is the one of greater strength.

"See you now the reason to keep this darkness in the center of the light? Better it is to have the darkness contained in our Temple than for it to wreck havoc outside."

"Why not just destroy the Sith Holocrons? Then there'd be nothing to worry about."

"Wrong you are." Yoda rapped his gimer stick on the floor (since the hologram didn't show the floor, the effect was comically eerie). "Darkness there will always be. Destroying the information on it will not rid us of it. Only blind us that will do—give false hope and security. If destroyed the Sith Holocrons were, lose the advantage over our enemy we would. And then, noticeable the Jedi Holocrons would become—what think you the enemy? Suspicious, they will become of this bright light, and redouble their efforts to destroy that which they hate and fear. Better to keep the balance, it is."

Obi-Wan didn't speak. Was there anything really left to say? Yoda had more wisdom than him—he had to trust that the Jedi Master knew what he was doing. He smiled briefly on the inside; now he knew why and how Yoda was so well-informed on the Dark Side (for the way Yoda had repelled Palpatine's Sith Lightning with his hands had been entirely too controlled to be the actions done on intuition). Perhaps Yoda was living truth of his own reasoning.

"Answers, I have given you. Satisfy you, will they?" Yoda asked gravely.

"Yes…I need time to let it all settle, but I think I see what you mean. I just need to sort everything out and come to terms with it myself." Tarren and Skraith's deaths still pained him; he couldn't shake off the feeling that it was his fault for not knowing what was held in those storage closets. And all of Yoda's reasoning could not numb his emotional guilt. Some feelings were beyond the bounds of logic.

"Then no more shall we talk of this matter, for repetition reinforces not understanding, but memorization. Tell me this important information that you have." Yoda nudged him into motion with his soft command.

"Right." Business was something he could focus on, and where the grays of morality came into play only after the events. "I was able to penetrate into the Imperial Senate's files with the help of two accomplices—" Yoda held up a wizened, clawed hand, effectively stopping Obi-Wan mid-sentence.

"These accomplices, trustworthy they are?" Yoda's gaze was sharp.

"I trust Tyro with my life," Obi-Wan swore. "He has helped me many times before, and he's loyal to the Jedi and the Old Republic. He's not with the Empire, that's for certain."

"But as for the other, sense I do that you are hesitant to answer. A reason for this, hmmm?"

"…The other is Granta Omega," Obi-Wan said reluctantly. Yoda's olive green eyes frowned in thought. "I _know_ that we can't trust him. He'd as soon betray us as he would the Empire—which is a likely thing to happen, from what he told me. But I think that he won't tell anyone of what we found…not unless it's profitable for him, or if we anger him. He would get into trouble himself, so it goes against his self-serving nature to talk without good reason."

Yoda sighed. "Selective we cannot be, in these times. Deal with what we have, we must and will. Now, what is it that you found?"

"The Empire is building an enormous battle station called the Death Star. It has the power to blow up small planets, and once built it'll be nearly invincible. Construction is already underway, and the estimation of its finishing time is in a couple years. With this machine, they could spread terror over the galaxy. They would be able to destroy anyone opposing them with the click of a button—annihilate protesting star systems in minutes. Everyone would be too afraid to stand up to them."

"Stopped, they must be, before this abomination is completed." Yoda's face was grave; he was envisioning the bleak future the Death Star would create through destruction.

"Those are my thoughts exactly—I'm worried that they might become too powerful for us to fight against if they have that monstrous machine under their command. I think I might have gained something that could help us bring them down before that can happen." Obi-Wan pulled out Anakin's schedule planner. "I found this when sneaking into Skywalker's office. It holds information on his schedule; where he'll be at what times. We might be able to catch him off guard with this."

Yoda's face lightened a margin, and his pointed elf-like ears perked up slightly. "Good news, this can be. But sure you must be, before handing this over," he said grimly. "Know you must by now, that should you give this over, use it we will to kill the Sith."

Obi-Wan paused, holding the datapad in a faintly shaking hand. He had never really thought that far in advance…he'd always imagined that they'd lock Anakin up in a prison on some far away, Outer Rim planet, where he couldn't hurt himself or anyone else. But death…could he really handle that? He held Anakin's life in his hand—this stupid, shaking hand that wouldn't still. But he had to complete the mission… These two ideas conflicted in his mind, fighting like a rabid dog and cat—each knowing that this was the final battle, each desperate to survive. He had to make a decision…Anakin or the mission…the Jedi or a family…

"I'll give it to you," Obi-Wan said eventually, his voice cracking faintly, although both pretended not to hear the waver in his timbre.

The mission won. He could not voluntarily send the galaxy into a world of terror, freely allowing a weapon such as the Death Star to be built as he pretended that such evils did not exist in his little world. In doing so, in remaining neutral when he had the ability to be _good_, he would have become part of the evil himself. He just couldn't do that, couldn't be that kind of person.

"I flipped through it myself, and I discovered that he's going to be on Mustafar all day tomorrow. That could be a good time to strike; it's soon, so it doesn't give Skywalker time to realize his datapad's missing, and the planet's isolated. The population is sparse, mostly workers who live onsite, so there's not much of a chance of civilians getting hurt should a head-on collision occur. It's the ideal place to ambush him." Obi-Wan transferred the rest of the information on the datapad to Yoda's comlink, just in case they would need to plan something beyond Mustafar, should that ambush fail.

Yoda looked over the information himself. "Mustafar, the best time it seems," he agreed with Obi-Wan. "Strike we will, and hope to end this quickly. Contact you I will in two days, to tell you if win or lose we do. Thank you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master of the Jedi Order. The right thing you did, if any consolation it be."

Obi-Wan smiled tightly—feeling the fake smile stretch across his face like rubber and hating the sensation—as Yoda disappeared.

It was the right thing, but his heart felt heavy.

And his hand _still_ would not stop shaking!

But he knew that there was no other way. He understood that the galaxy would be in danger as long as a Sith roamed it. There was no other option. It would be a justified death, in the name of the greater good.

He trudged heavily out of the room, concealing his comlink inside his sky-blue septsilk tunic. It was another one of Anakin's handpicked, silly, frivolous, beautiful outfits. Instead of heading back towards the meditation room, Obi-Wan started towards the Jedi Archives. He needed to be around objects—not people—objects that did not ask questions, but gave answers.

When he had first become a Jedi Knight and a Master to Anakin, he had felt an overwhelming need for guidance. So much had been thrown into his face all at once, and there had been no step-by-step manual buried beneath all the tools and materials he had been given. He had looked up information on his past missions with Qui-Gon, to see if there was any advice in them that would help him to become a better person and a fair teacher. He found out that not only were the holofiles informative, but also soothing. It brought back good memories, reading those files. He missed Qui-Gon's protective, quiet but strong spirit. Remembrance brought some of that secure, safe feeling back.

So while at first he had only researched those files for information, he soon started to read them whenever he felt lost or frustrated. They produced a peace in him that no living being could. Those files were his security blanket, something old and tattered and having no material or sentimental value to anyone but himself, and he was careful not to overuse it, lest it fell apart from wear-and-tear.

Right now, he desperately needed them.

He entered the enormous Archive room. Going to a terminal, he typed some commands into the search engine. But nothing popped up. His brow furrowed, and he tried a search using a different chain of words. He hadn't checked up anything in the near future, so maybe the main computer had, in its programmed self-cleaning routine, moved the files to a different port to save space. Or compressed them, or renamed them, or _something_… He tried a different approach with the search engine. Still nothing.

He searched the backwater files on the computer…the deleted bin…removed files…recorded history…Holonet information on Jedi missions… Nothing. There was absolutely no trace of Qui-Gon left. Obi-Wan stared at the computer, dumbfounded. How could this be possible?

Something clicked in his mind. Anakin—taking away his Jedi clothes, destroying his equipment, distancing him from the temple. In a rare display of frustration and anger, he pounded his fist on the desk he was sitting at, though what he truly wanted to do was break down and cry. Its metal frame rattled beneath him, and his hand stung from abusing itself on such a hard surface. He gritted his teeth, brutally typing in the commands needed to turn off the computer.

So even that part of his life, the past, was disappearing.

Force, was he to be left with _nothing_ once this was over?


	21. Jedi Rebellion

**Reposted 1-12-06: **Thank you, **alchemy dream**, for finding and correcting my mistakes once again. I love your reviews, and I love it that you point out my mistakes.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block:** Act I: Trial of a Man by **H7**. This is a Zelda fic that is rated M. The first thing that I will tell you is that this story is amazingly, wonderfully and ridiculously long (and I keep wishing that it was longer). It currently has fifty-nine chapters, and it's not even completed yet. And these aren't even little chapters either, but _huge_ blocks of writing. This fic is action-packed, has a wonderful plot and tormented hero, and some twists in it that I could have never possibly dreamed up. I can't get over how good H7's story is. You'll enjoy reading it, trust me.

Obi-Wan finally came to that big decision, of whether his allegiances were to Anakin or the Jedi. And while none of you seemed to really like it (it kind of pulled at my heart-strings also), Obi-Wan did choose the good over Anakin. (I mean, this _is_ Obi-Wan that we're talking about.) And did anyone pick up on how Yoda was telling Obi-Wan, just before The Big Decision, about knowing all the paths and then choosing the right one was what made a Jedi a Jedi? He was trying to prepare Obi-Wan for his final decision, if such a thing _can_ be prepared for.

Thank you for all the reviews, I love them! You guys really make this an enjoyable experience for me, as well as a learning one. I do have one last thing that I need to tell you before you can go on to read the chapter: the next chapter is going to be the final chapter (but don't worry there's an epilogue!), but because I don't like how it turned out, I'm going to rewrite the whole chapter from scratch. This may take a while, because I need to go over my entire story and find all those little details that I need to tie into the ending and explain, and also that the ending needs to be handled very delicately or it'll be pretty unrealistic. This is going to be a tricky process; I'm juggling a candle burning at both ends, and I might get flamed if this isn't done properly. (Please ignore my pathetic attempt at a pun.) I just wanted you guys to know, so that when a new chapter doesn't come out for a while you know that there's a reasonable explanation, and it's not just because I'm lazy.

**Page Amount: **4

**Word Count: **3,660

Written 8-9-05

Listening to: Perfect Circle "Passive"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Twenty-One**: Jedi Rebellion_

"Camp out here, we will," Yoda said to his fellow Jedi. Their current location was the moon Mustafar, in an abandoned building right by the only landing port on the whole lava-ridden orb. "Good, this position is. An advantage over Darth Vader we will have, of knowing exactly when he lands while ignorant still is he of our position. When the opportune moment arrives, when the Force calls most strongly, strike we will."

"Yes, Master Yoda," Tru Veld said tiredly. He rolled out his sleeping bag, the red thing uncurling like a loosened tongue, and sat on top of its thin but greatly appreciated padding. He didn't even try getting into it—only a madman would willingly sleep in an extra layer with all this oppressive heat about. While only a young adult in years, Tru looked more like a weary man in his late mid-life. There were already permanent lines sinking into the skin of his face, and his hair at the temple was graying.

Ten other Jedi were setting up sleeping arrangements or equipment, all of them with various tired looks on their faces. They had to move constantly, and there was no respite from the hunt. An endless flow of bounty hunters and criminals tracked them down, with the single-minded intent of killing them and collecting their colossal reward. Even worse were the Stormtroopers—keen-minded men and women who sought the Jedi's death not for the money but for the glory of their Empire; who had not only an undying source of motivation to pursue them, but the most advanced equipment with which to do so. They were like white, faceless ghosts, haunting the existence of the Jedi and willing them to the grave.

The struggle for survival was ceaseless for the Jedi. Even the Force, in its infinite power, could not replenish their energy or stave back their weariness.

"The only good thing about all this heat is that we can't be spotted with heat-detector goggles," Lorrie Tri said with a grimace, huffing a strand of sooty, once-blonde hair out of her face. It jumped in the air only to return to its former position, annoying Lorrie by tickling her nose. The sulfur in the air had darkened it to a dirty black. Only a hint of its true color was left, and within hours that, too, would be gone. "I'll be glad when we get off this molten rock."

Both hands were busy piecing together a collapsible ship-detector, made to disassemble into pieces small enough to fit into a large pocket, so the annoying strand of hair stayed where it was. The only sign Lorrie gave of acknowledging its aggravating existence was the slight frown to her mouth, and the way she rather brutally but efficiently screwed the pieces together.

"You said the same thing about that ice-planet. Hoth, I think it was…it's too hard to remember all the places we've run to. I suppose it doesn't matter, really… But whatever, that's not the point—you said you wanted to go somewhere warmer. Well, you got it," Bant Eerin joked. She rubbed her drying skin and said, as flakes of dead cells stuck to her fingers, "Personally, I wish we could get a wetter environment." She was a Mon Calamari, an amphibian humanoid race. She was suffering under this extreme heat. She looked at her half-full water bottle and sighed regretfully; she had to ration it, and could not drink from it wastefully despite her discomfort.

"Personally, I'd like civilization," Lorrie countered. "The Jedi Temple sounds sweeter and sweeter after every backwater planet we visit."

"Water…" Bant sighed.

"Computers…" Lorrie responded with a mock-sigh similar to Bant's.

"Will you two stop your moaning and groaning?" a rougher and older-looking human Jedi asked grouchily (though the growl had more of a demand to it than a question). "You're only making the rest of us feel worse. We'll get this over and done with, and then you two can have your beloved Temple back. What I want is a mission that's actually worth something, instead of all this running, running, running."

"Worth much this mission is," Yoda inputted sharply. "The fate of an entire galaxy, on our shoulders it rests."

"Sorry, Master Yoda," the dark-haired Jedi said sheepishly with a bow. "My word choice was poor—I meant a mission that's more of normal protocol. You know, where a Jedi Knight goes out and helps to solve problems on his own…"

"Accepted your apology is. A warning though, to think more carefully before speaking," Yoda admonished. "Alone you prefer to be, Ryn, but work with others you must do so now, to save the Galactic Republic and this galaxy from those who would destroy it."

Yoda's words had an affect on him. The impatience and irritation that had filled him—pacing inside him like a caged, hungry tiger with wild golden eyes—emptied out, leaving an exhausted body and mind in its absence. "I know that we must do this. It's just so _taxing_," he confessed, "I hardly feel like I'm living in this body anymore. I'm just giving it commands from some high-up perch, hoping that it'll last through one more day without completely breaking down."

"One more day might be all we need," Lorrie chuckled as she screwed on the neck of the ship-detector. As she twisted it on, her fingers throttled it tightly to emphasize her point.

"Optimistic in a morbid sense," Bant concluded about Lorrie.

"At least I've _got_ a positive attitude," Lorrie retorted. "The rest of you look and act like zombies. I've seen banthas with more personality. And they're a pretty dull mammal, so I must say that that's an outstanding feat. I would congratulate you…but unfortunately, that's not a good accomplishment."

Bant opened her mouth to say something back, but Tru cut into their conversation. "Get some rest, you two. We already ate today's meal, and the best way to keep your strength is to sleep. Tomorrow we're going to need everything we've got."

"What about strategizing?" Bant asked.

"Leave that to Yoda," Tru nodded his head respectfully at Yoda, who was meditating on his small sleeping bag. "I trust that he'll get us through this. We'll hear the plan tomorrow, after he's worked out all the details in his head. Anything you say now will just break his concentration."

His speech wavered off as exhaustion ate away his concentration, and he looked around for a little while before picking the conversation up again, "…Though it's hard to tell with all the light given off by the lava, I'd say that it's getting late. Sleep." He laid down on his sleeping bag and attempted to drift off to sleep. But he had trouble—the mind could not rest while the body suffered. The heat was making his skin sticky; his sleeping bag clung to him in an irritating manner. The thin padding barely cushioned his body from the hard, remorseless ground.

Bant sighed. "That's all we seem to do—sleep. I still say that sleeping isn't going to make up for the fact that we only eat one-and-a-half meals a day. There's only so many times you can fool your stomach."

"You forgot the other major part of our lives—running," Lorrie pointed out. "We do a hell of a lot of running."

* * *

"Jedi shouldn't use such foul words," Tru mumbled from where he laid on his sleeping bag, still trying to find a position that was comfortable enough to sleep in. Rocks jabbed at him no matter how he turned. Right now one was digging into his shoulder blade—he shifted a little to his left, and just as soon as the pressure in his shoulder let up another one was digging into his stomach. "Swearing is improper, and often gives an inaccurate description, thus making it obsolete. Far better adjectives and nouns exist to more adequately explain your situation."

Bant leaned in closer to Lorrie and agreed in a whisper that Tru couldn't hear, "We do do a hell of a lot of running."

"This way Darth Vader comes, and near he is," was Yoda's first words to them, a chilling wakeup call. They stretched, forcing stiff joints to loosen up. They'd had little restful sleep, harassed by nightmares and physical discomforts as they were. But none of the weariness, none of the tired playfulness from last night, was displayed in their faces now. They were Jedi on a mission with their goal in sight. They were completely serious.

The sound of Bant's breathing was a raspy sound as her lungs tried to accept the dry air. A coughing fit attacked her as heated air and soot scorched her lungs, and she wistfully thought of the damper air of her homeland that her lungs were meant for. She took a swig from her lukewarm (and it was perhaps even a few degrees hotter) water bottle and her breathing evened out a little. "How far away is he?" she asked, pushing away the itching pain in her lungs. Her throat tickled, and she couldn't completely stop the small fit of coughs that spilled out of her mouth. "What is the plan?"

"In ten minutes, be here he should," Yoda said. "Wait I did until the last possible moment to wake you, to give you all the rest you could have. As for the plan: wait we will until he leaves his ship. Disable the hyperdrive engine and controls of his ship we will, to give him no means of escape, and then attack him we will. Shield our combined presences from him I cannot do for long, so we must abandon tactic for speed once the battle begins."

"Now there's a plan I like," Ryn said with a grin. "Nice and simple. Less ways for it to get complicated, then, and less chances of it failing."

"We should eat while we wait. Get all the strength we can," Tru said as he took a bite out of his protein cube. "We'll need it. And after this is done, hopefully we won't have to go back into hiding. I'm getting sick of eating these protein cubes—a meal that doesn't involve a parallelogram would be nice." He chuckled, but that quickly turned to a grimace as he took another bite out of his block of food. "Returning to regular society sounds good to me."

"Doubt that we can, I do," Yoda said with a shake of his head. "Change the Empire won't in a day. Bide our time we will still have to, until the Empire crumbles from within. Only live without fear we will, should we defeat this adversary. The rest—comforts, families, contact with society—come later they will."

"I take it that means that we'll still be on the run," Lorrie said in a glum tone. Her shoulders hunched over as her half-starved body leaned forward, almost seeming to curl into itself.

A ship landed on the dock, a faint clanging sound arising and echoing over to their hiding spot as metal struck metal. _Darth Vader has arrived_, it declared with its metallic, imperial boom.

"Time, it is," Yoda said, taking out his lightsaber but not lighting it. "Remember, shielded our presence I have, but disable the ship we must do quickly before detects us he does. Soon as he leaves, move we must." Soot-covered faces nodded grimly in understanding.

Darth Vader walked out of his ship, looking impeccable and commanding in his black uniform. It was pristine and sharp, with the air of being unwieldy—but at the same time Vader's movements were surprisingly liquid and fluid. His long, black cape was stagnant in the oppressive, unmoving air, a long sheet of black ink dribbling straight to the ground. Darth Vader had the appearance of an emperor—he _was_ an emperor. Compared to the ragtag band of Jedi in their sooty, torn garments and underfed figures, he seemed the essence of sophistication. Refinement. His harsh blue eyes gazed around lazily, and he appeared content to stay where he was, standing with his polished boots aggressively spaced apart on the metal platform.

"What if he doesn't move?" Bant hissed quietly, the sound almost lost within the gurgling of lava bubbles popping below. "How do we sabotage his ship, then?" Yoda motioned with a knobby hand for her to remain silent, fearing that Vader would hear the words with the aid of the Force and become aware of their position.

"There's no need for you to remain hiding, Jedi," Darth Vader said coldly, the words drifting over the shimmering, hot air like an icy breeze, chilling all their hearts. "I can feel your collected presence."

"Don't move," Yoda whispered urgently, but by the time the command was spoken Ryn was already rushing past him, lightsaber drawn and activated. Ryn gave a battle cry, swinging his blue lightsaber over his head as he rushed at the Sith. Before any of them could react, Ryn fell to the floor—twice—his torso detaching from his legs with a sick squelching sound. The two separate body parts hit the floor with meaty thuds and moved no more.

Darth Vader held his lightsaber in a fisted hand before him, the blue blade and red blade shining sinisterly like lanterns lighting the way to Hell. He asked coldly, "Either you underestimate me, or I have overestimated you—a disappointment, either way."

"Changed the plan has. Follow my lead." Yoda placed his gimer stick down and walked out to meet Vader without it; it would hinder his ability to fight and weaken his appearance. "Darth Vader, seems it does that you knew of our coming."

"I know more than you think, even now. My reach is long, my strength in the Force incomparable. You will all die here on this hellish world." He snarled, baring his teeth like an aggressive panther facing down a weaker foe. "A befitting death for hypocritical saviors."

"Twisted you have become," Yoda said with remorse. "Twisted is your truth. All ends here." His small green lightsaber activated as he took a fighting stance. The Jedi behind him pulled out their lightsabers as well. Bars of green and blue hovered behind Yoda's small form. The lighting from below, in the form of lava, lit their backs in a deep blood red, shadowing their fronts. Only the light from their lightsabers made their individual faces, tinted the color of their blade, distinguishable. They were somber, soot-covered skulls hovering over the black abyss of their shadowed bodies, executioners lined up for the sentencing of the Final Judgment.

Darth Vader sneered, and there was no fear in his eyes. "It ends for some." Baring his teeth, he charged at Yoda. Bant jumped in front of the small Jedi Master to protect him, a determined look in her eyes, but Vader slashed at her side and she went down with a raspy cry. Vader pressed the attack on Yoda, only pausing to lash out at those who tried to interfere with their personal duel. It was obvious that his first goal was to kill Yoda. The others would die afterwards, if they weren't already cut down in the process of killing the green, child-sized humanoid.

Darth Vader planned to cut off the head of the snake, and then watch with satisfaction as the body withered and twitched before dying.

Bant gritted her teeth, holding her hurting side and trying to keep the wound from gapping open. The stench of burnt flesh clogged her nostrils and coated her tongue, and it was all she could taste and smell. Panting, she stumbled to her feet. She looked around and saw that three others had already joined the Force like Ryn. Giving a cry, she lunged at Vader once more, aiming her lightsaber at the back of his head. Without even turning around, he Force pushed her back with a flick of his hand. He didn't miss a beat, and in the same motion also swung his blade at Yoda. The green humanoid blocked the slash, as he had all the other ones. His stance expressed defense and patience; Darth Vader seethed anger and hate.

"You fight like Obi-Wan did," Vader taunted Yoda, "when I defeated him four years ago. But your fate will be less kind than his—I intend to kill you. I _will_ kill you. And then I'll kill all your fellow Jedi. One by one they will suffer and _die_. The Force cannot save you. Can you not feel it receding from you? Can you not see the shaking of your hands?"

Yoda said nothing, his green eyes speaking the thoughts he did not need to voice.

Bant lunged to her feet again, fighting against the unbalanced feeling in her body and another coughing fit. She couldn't lose. Everything depended on this—the galaxy, her life, the lives of millions. She had to keep fighting. Until she won, or until she died, she could not stop. She resigned herself to those two options. She had no others. She jumped into the fray, fighting by Yoda. The green Jedi covered her more than she did him, but Bant couldn't help that she was weakened, and she couldn't give up and stay out of the fight. She pressed, drawing the Force around her to gain strength. Her side screamed in pain, but she ignored it. The only fortunate thing of a shallow lightsaber wound was that it did not bleed.

Lorrie fell, a surprised look on her face as her eyes glazed over. Her neck was black, the flesh burnt and shriveled from where Darth Vader's lightsaber had sunken into it. Bant felt despair claw at her chest as her friend's body shuddered one last time on the ground before stilling. It was as if she couldn't breathe, that her body had died with Lorrie's—until she felt Tru's solid presence by her side. Her friend was attacking with all he had, blocking only when absolutely necessary. Though Vader managed to deflect every one of his blows, he never relented in his attacks. His eyes and hands never wavered. Seeing him fight with such resolve strengthened her own will, and she felt honored at being able to fight alongside such brave friends.

Tru and Bant, along with Yoda, were the only ones left now. All the others had fallen to Vader's brutal swings. Tru crumpled to the ground, crying out in pain. He curled up into a ball, clutching his wounded stomach. He was trying to hold in his intestines, which threatened to spill out of his gapping abdomen, and shock was the only thing keeping him alive. The recognition that he would die was starting to set in, and life was ebbing out of him quickly through twitching fingers. His breath hitched as a spasm ran through his body; blood spurted out of his wound, glistening on his hands and the filthy ground around him. Only one thought, one sensation, was left in his body and mind—pain, unending, inescapable pain.

Bant, distracted by her compassion for her dying friend, didn't see the red lightsaber swinging towards her chest. Horrified, she looked down when she heard the sound of a lightsaber sizzling into flesh, the fat popping from the heat. She stared, shocked, at the lightsaber embedded in her torso. Darth Vader casually pulled the humming blade from her chest, already turning away and dismissing her. She dropped to the ground, dead before her head even knocked against the rusty durasteel of the landing port, her heart no more than vaporized ashes in an empty crater.

Yoda faced off against Darth Vader alone. They fought silently now, each trading blows, attacking and defending. The blades, green, blue, red, clashed and buzzed in the air. It was a musical sound, a beautiful humming—it was a horrible sound, an angry buzz of death in the form of parasitical flies. Yoda finally saw an opening in Vader's defense and swung his lightsaber at the Sith's right, robotic hand. But Anakin's mechanical arm halted the green blade's motion, the Cortosis plates layered on it withstanding the intense heat of the lightsaber blade.

Yoda's eyes widened, and he in his infinite wisdom could not possibly be blind to the consequence of his mistake made in ignorance.

"Surprised?" Vader gloated, a smirk contorting his lips; "Obi-Wan didn't tell you about my arm being coated in Cortosis, did he? Your lightsaber is as useless as you are." And, with Yoda's blade still locked onto his arm, he tossed his blade to his other hand and swung at Yoda.

The life drifted out of Yoda's wise, sad green eyes as his body came to rest on the floor.

Darth Vader walked over to Tru, his dual-bladed lightsaber hanging loosely in his fingers. Tru was still gasping, barely on the edge of life as he, in a futile action, pressed his hands to the cavity in his stomach. "Even you… You were my friend," Darth Vader said softly, hate dancing in his voice like a whirlwind of man-eating demons ringing a burning pit of human bodies. "_You were my friend_, and you tried to kill me." The molten atmosphere seemed to reach a new fevered pitch, the lava far below bubbling up in tumultuous motion, popping and oozing like festering wounds.

Tru stared up at his former friend, pain clouding all thoughts in his mind; there was nothing comprehensible in his gaze anymore, no sign of intelligence or recognition. Pain reduced him to the lowest mammal. His flexible body contorted into grotesque shapes, spasms of pain racing in his veins as his heart pumped liquid lava through him.

"But I'll do this one last favor for you, for an old friend," Darth Vader went on to say. "I'll give you a quick ending."

He gutted Tru on his red lightsaber blade, and left the twisted form on the dirty ground, hardly human.


	22. The Fire

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

**Writer's Block:** Flowers and Friends by **Yamiyugikun**. This Naruto fic is rated T and has shoujou-ai. This fic is an amazing piece of artwork. The details and metaphors woven into the story make it a rich reading experience. The romance is wonderfully written. It's sweet, and gives you a sense of being simple and pure. I love Ino and Sakura's interaction with each other. The characters are beautiful, the descriptions are beautiful; simply put, the story is beautiful.

Ack! I apologize that it took so long for me to write and post this. I ran into a bit of trouble with inspiration; the ending I wanted was a little difficult in conveying. And once I _was_ finished with writing it, I worried about how realistic it was…so I procrastinated in posting it. Honestly, if it wasn't for my friend Sarah (alchemy dream) reading this over beforehand and giving me her positive feedback, this chapter might have been a long way in coming. Thank you so much, Sarah, for sticking with this story to the end and helping me fine-tune this chapter. Your insight is amazing, as always. :)

I just want to thank everyone who's ever read this and reviewed. I love all of your comments, from the critiques to the compliments. As we all know, good things must come to an end. I only hope that this last chapter ends with enough of a bang to leave an impression and keep you thinking about it for a little while longer. And who knows, maybe my story will prove second-read-worthy, with all of its little twists and turns (I do leave hints for everything, if you can find them). Your entertainment is my enjoyment.

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

**Page Amount: **8

**Word Count: **6,392

Written 2-20-06

Listening to: Narnia soundtrack "The Stone Table"

_Written by Ice Dragon3_

**Jedi Genocide**

_**Chapter Twenty-Two**: The Fire_

Darth Vader was in his house, slapping water on his face as he rinsed soapsuds off his newly clean skin. The porcelain white tiles of the bathroom hurt his eyes, as did the white light fixed right above the sink's mirror like an accusing eye. He knew that Leia and Luke must be in the house somewhere, but the buzzing in his ears made him unable to hear anything outside of his own thoughts. It was as if he were entirely alone, an entity of black trapped by this white, glaring box that separated him from touch and time.

The sound of rushing water gurgling down the drain made its way through the haze in his ears, and absentmindedly he twisted the knob off, halting the flow and noise. Darth Vader looked himself in the mirror, and was surprised to see that the soap had mildly irritated his eyes, making the lower rim a bruised red. But then again, they did itch, so he shouldn't have been so shocked by his less-than-perfect appearance.

He had taken a shower after coming home, wiping off soot and blood and something less tangible with a washcloth and soap. He had cleaned his hair calmly, brushed his teeth, and thrown away the now-useless clothes in favor of a new, clean, ink-black outfit. And then, feeling that his face still felt slightly dirty, its pores clogged with sulfur-ridden dirt, he had cleaned his face once again using the bathroom sink.

And that brought him to this moment in time.

"You look horrible, Anakin," Darth Vader said to his flipped reflection. "Get a hold of yourself. You asked for it, and you received exactly what you wanted. Stop feeling…these feelings. Think ahead, there's still the final piece to play before you can safely say 'check mate.' Your opponent's not going to go easy on you, as this last experiment taught you."

There was no time for 'feelings,' for thoughts of 'what if' and 'could I have…?' The past was dead, an unchangeable carcass, and he could only move forward, ever a parasite of the future. It was a future that was oh so near…a step and a half away from becoming the present. Darth Vader licked his chapped lips—damn those extreme temperatures—in anticipation, and then grimaced as the bitter taste of soap coated the tip of his tongue.

Slapping some more water on his face to rid himself of the last clinging residue of soap, Vader inspected himself in the mirror again. Damn, his irritated eyes were still acting up…

No matter, though, none of this mattered right now, these minor inconveniences and twinges of phantom emotions. The last of the Jedi were dead, falling into his trap as easily as a deer chased to a canyon does, all broken bones and death now. He had thrown all their bodies off the side of the platform, had watched with morbid satisfaction as the hungry lava tugged them into its heated bowels until not so much as a finger was left floating.

His brilliant master plan had worked. He was living proof of it, and the Jedi dead proof. Obi-Wan, his unwitting accomplice, had played his part marvelously. Darth Vader knew from the beginning that Obi-Wan's sudden interest in him was not a return of feelings but a turn of mission goals. While he may not of been able to get cameras or listening devices into the Temple building itself through various flukes and mistakes, that didn't mean he had been unable to spy on Obi-Wan to learn his true intentions. Those transmitted waves of data, coming and going from Obi-Wan's comlink, were as easy to tune into as regular radio stations for someone like him. He not only had the money and motivation, but the talent necessary to make the action appear almost magical in the effortless way he performed it. A twist of the wrist, tap a few buttons, and there it was, pulled out of thin air with far more brilliance than a white rabbit—Obi-Wan's sweet tune of treason being sung out like a nightingale's song.

Darth Vader had allowed Obi-Wan to get close, knowing that he could achieve two goals if he spun his web _just right_—so that his butterfly would be caught but unharmed in the sticky, delicate-looking threads. And he had done it—his web was so beautiful, so symmetrical, so goddamn perfect that there was not a flaw to be found in his plan. He had manipulated the threads just so, and with every subtle tug and shift another life was caught in its sticky grasp, doing exactly what he wanted. Some he left rotting in their gluey prism, others he killed quickly, and a very select few he spared. Though for some that clemency was temporary, as he was still trying to figure out what to do with them—Granta Omega being such a case.

Everything had worked out perfectly, as if it had been a rehearsed play that they had practiced millions of times, the characters all knowing their lines, their entrances and exits. If he had typed a script they could not have followed their cues more closely. Palpatine's final exit had been right on schedule, as soon as he had been sure that Obi-Wan would not try to run away; his rise to power; the demise of the Jedi…all of it had happened smoothly and flawlessly. Obi-Wan, though unwilling and distant at first, had slowly accepted his role in this 'play' as the main character's lover. And although Darth Vader had had to use some…_persuasion_…to get Obi-Wan to fully commit to the role, in the end everything had worked out fine. With the Force—as with _all_ types of power—the end justified the means.

Everything was going as planned.

But then why…? He looked at his face in the mirror again, at the redness of his eyes that was not from the demonic rage of the Sith or from stupid soap bubbles, but from something more remorseful and human…

"Knock, knock," a smooth and amused voice said, followed closely by the actually rapping of the door. The voice was familiar, and brought to the mind the sensation of rich, dark, blood red velvet; he knew the man well, though he would not call them friends.

Darth Vader growled, averting his eyes from the detestable mirror and yanking the door open. "Omega," Vader said stiffly, rage darkening his face and mood. "I clearly remember telling you that you were never allowed in my house."

Omega raised his hands in a sign of false surrender. "Come now, is this the way a host should act? I clearly remember you saying that too, so there's no need to repeat yourself. I know how it goes: business is business, and personal is personal."

"Then what are you doing here?" Vader stalked to his room, motioning Omega in angrily. It was bad enough to have the imp in his house, but he didn't want his children to come in contact with him also.

"Business, of course," Omega replied smoothly, all false charm and smiles. The nicer he acted to a person, the more wary they should be; it always foreshadowed the gleeful ruin of someone.

Darth Vader raised an eyebrow, the impatient look on his face expressing clearly that Omega had better get to the point soon, or else he'd have no breath with which to talk with.

"I thought that, being the good person I am"—Omega smile gained the flinty edge earned through irony—"to tell you that Obi-Wan stumbled across something that wasn't in the plan last night. I gained him access to your room, like you asked, and everything was going perfect—he found nothing useful except your schedule—when an unexpected player decided to enter onto the stage. He goes by the name of Tyro Caladian; I checked it out and it's his real name."

"Yes, I sensed that force signature on Obi-Wan when he came home," Vader said irritably. "You're not telling me anything that I don't already know."

"Don't think that the Force gives you all the answers, Vader. I bet your Force didn't tell you that Tyro decided to 'help' us by finding top-secret information on your plans for the Death Star."

Darth Vader remained silent; however, it was such an abnormal stillness in both body and expression that it did nothing but betray the raging of his inner demons.

"Ah ha, I thought so," Omega said smugly, "Surprise, surprise, what a wakeup call, eh? I just thought I'd stop by an old friend's, and tell him that his plan isn't exactly following the bulleted outline. And I suggest that you fix things very quickly. Time is ticking, and you don't have very much left."

"And how would you suggest I fix things?" Vader asked in a surprisingly quiet voice, a consequence of him having to repress so many murderous desires. His fingers twitched with the urge to just wrap the Force around that scrawny neck…

"Kill the senate aid, make up some excuses for your lover, and get better protection software," Omega listed off laconically, holding up a finger for each point.

"And were any copies of this information made?" Darth Vader asked carefully.

Omega gave him a half-nod. "One. I gave it to Obi-Wan for 'safekeeping.' I figured if I didn't do _something_ with the information, they would become suspicious of me. I'm sure that, with your close and loving bond—free from any lies and deceit—it'll be an Alderaan breeze to get the data back."

Vader watched Omega closely, his blue eyes flashing dangerously as he said, "Are you sure that only one copy was made?"

Omega grinned and joked, "Vader…does this look like a face that would lie to you?"

Scowling and turning away from Omega, Darth Vader dismissed the man with an imperial wave of his hand. "You have said what you came here to say, now leave before I help you—out the window."

Giving a light laugh as he went to the door, he said casually over his shoulder in a chiding tone, "Really, you don't have to be so mean about it. Just because your feelings got hurt that little _Obi_ actually did what you wanted him to do—betraying you, betraying Jedi, etcetera etcetera—doesn't mean you can lash out at everyone else. You knew what you were getting into from the beginning.

"Your hand is dealt, so play with it or fold."

The wooden door groaned as an enormous amount of Force slammed into it, causing it to crack and hunch into itself as if in pain—but Omega's slim body had already slipped out of the room and evaded the would-have-been fatal attack. Darth Vader could hear the faint sound of cold chuckles through the warped wood, and rage bubbled up in his blood at the taunt.

He gazed at himself in his bedroom mirror, and what he saw there was to his dissatisfaction. When he crushed the glass with his mind, it was out of anger caused by Omega's lies—lies that had _no truth_ in them.

Calmly straightening his black tunic, he strolled out of the room. Gone was the rage, the red eyes (of either kind), the clenched fists, the twisted snarl. "Leia, Luke? I'm going to the Temple now, so be good for Artoo-Detoo. I plan on being back soon, so I'll make dinner then, okay?" His children, oblivious to the monster lurking inside Vader, said inattentive goodbyes as they continued to play their three-dimensional holo-board game.

Tugging on his black boots and cloak, Darth Vader dressed himself for the final act.

* * *

"Are we really going to go through with this?" a nervous and low voice asked. Its owner faired no better. His face, normally tan, was unusually pale. He couldn't stop his hands from moving restlessly. They were like wild sparrows caught in a cage. "Can we really do this?"

"Of course we can, and are." The second voice was dismissive, so cool and collected that the temperature seemed to drop by minute degrees when it spoke. It betrayed nothing. "Everything is coming together. If we don't take this opportunity now, it'll be gone forever."

"I know…but still…I can't help but feel nervous. Like there's something we overlooked."

"No plan is perfect. If possible problems weren't taken into consideration, if flexibility wasn't allowed, then yes, I would say that we wouldn't have long to live." The charming man gave him a quick smile and chuckle, and the nervous man with sparrow hands shivered and wondered if the temperature had dropped down another few degrees. "But I'm guessing, from all things considered at this point, that our survival rate is very high—very high indeed."

"Can you be sure?"

"Only with hindsight."

The joke was not received well, most likely being mistaken as an honest reply. The nervous man gave him a curious look, and the friendly smile dripped off the other man's face like melted wax. Now frowning, he snapped out angrily, "Don't ask stupid questions. Nothing is ever certain. But your fear of failing is the reason why _you_ are taking orders from _me_, and why I won't be taking them from anybody, soon. So shut up and let me concentrate, or else we really _will_ be killed."

Commander Keller shifted nervously on his feet, his clone trooper armor clacking quietly with every small movement.

"I _said_, shut up," the other man stated irritably, glaring at the fidgeting clone. "I can't think with that noise."

Like the good soldier he was, he obeyed the command given to him by his superior.

* * *

A pale, human hand scrabbled under one of the six storage closets in the silent room. It was as if the entire Temple was holding its breath, wondering what would happen next. The fingers brushed up against ice-cold metal, and as the handle was grasped it felt as though the Temple let out a rush of stale air.

* * *

Obi-Wan felt terrible, truly terrible. Anakin was probably dead by now—though he couldn't be sure of anything. He hadn't had the heart to go back to Skywalker Skyscraper, knowing that he would have to face twin looks of disbelief and hurt on Luke and Leia's faces if he did so. It didn't matter that all his stuff was there, that the twins were probably confused and worried. Poor things. He wasn't going back. He had done the right thing, but the cost had been his heart. He knew that the hurt would fade away in time, that he would begin to rationalize everything sooner or later, but right now he didn't care much to think. He preferred to wander the halls of the Temple, wearing one of his old Jedi outfits that he found lying on his closet floor, discarded and holey.

He felt like a ghost, wearing his tattered Jedi outfit that spoke of history long past, of the glory and peace of the fading Jedi Order. He felt like a ghost, insubstantial in soul, walking down remembered halls in a daze that created a thin veil between him and living.

Well—it couldn't be helped now. Anakin was dead. Surely Yoda would give him a call soon, and then he could start planning for the future. The Galactic Empire would be in a weakened state as soon as news of its leader's death hit the HoloNet, and the Jedi would have to step in quickly before an ambitious minion took over or civilization imploded. And to think of things on a more selfish level—yes, the petty thoughts that arise in the greatest times of despair—Obi-Wan really did need to get himself a lightsaber…

A slight breeze drifted through the hallway, heading towards the exit. Frowning, Obi-Wan wondered if the air-conditioning had fritzed slightly, spitting out a stronger gust of air than usual. Rubbing his arms to try to get the goosebumps to settle down, Obi-Wan added 'fix air-conditioning' to his long list of necessary duties, and continued to haunt the halls.

* * *

Darth Vader was driving to the Temple when something in the air twisted, becoming unpleasant. His body was suddenly hypersensitive. The feeling of clothes on his body, his hands against the steering wheel, the flashes of light coming from the approaching Coruscanti traffic headlights—all became magnified. His mouth felt dry, and he licked his lips with his tongue. It felt like the rasping of a cat's tongue against his lips, more like sandpaper than smoothness. Something was about to happen, he could feel it in the charged air around him, in the quick swirls and eddies of the normally calm Force. And it wasn't something that fit neatly into his calculations.

Suddenly worried, he stepped down on the gas, hurrying to his destination. The speeder shifted to a higher gear, and he swore he could hear the clicking of metal on metal as the engine grinded down with new determination and fury. He had to get there quickly, before this ominous warning became an ominous action.

For the first time since he had finished weaving his web, he wondered if perhaps he was just caught up in something much grander, much larger, than anything he could see on his own. He wondered if perhaps in his focus, in his unwavering concentration on the design of his own little section of silk thread, he had become oblivious to the minuteness of his own labors.

* * *

Obi-Wan's wandering of the halls was abruptly stopped by an object in his direct path; or rather, by a person that was blocking his way. Obi-Wan took a hesitant step forward, hand held slightly out in front of him as if he wished to offer it in friendship and comfort, but was too unsure to complete the action. "Darrien, is something the matter?" he asked quietly and calmly.

He had never seen Darrien—calm, collected, silent Darrien—in such a state before. Dark brown hair and the downward angle of Darrien's head made Obi-Wan unable to see most of his expression, but what he could make out startled him. Darrien hiccupped and, as he wiped his forearm across his eyes, nodded his head shyly. The other hand hung limply at his side, not knowing what to do with itself. "I—I'm fine, Master Obi-Wan."

"You don't look it," Obi-Wan said as gently as he could. He wanted to take another step forward, but thought against it—Darrien was not one for physical contact, and often Obi-Wan had witnessed him shifting away from those who tried to sit too close to him during meditation.

Darrien bit his lower lip, and when he looked up at Obi-Wan his brown eyes were full of sadness and something indescribable. "I don't feel it," he admitted hesitantly.

"Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?"

"It's just…everything that's been going on has made me think of my…parents." Darrien scrubbed at his eyes again with the heel of his palms. "I've just been feeling so much stress lately, and then having to go through the pain of Tarren and Skraith's deaths—it was a lot for me to take in all at once. It made me start to have nightmares about my parents again. You know, the ones I used to have when I first came here." He looked away, embarrassed to admit to this weakness. "I end up hating myself all over again every time I wake up."

"Darrien, you know that you were not at fault for what happened to your parents. You were only a baby, and untrained. It was a defensive action on your part—" Obi-Wan stopped abruptly, realizing that he wasn't helping the situation by looking at it from an intellectual point of view.

"Perhaps you would like to tell me about it?" he asked unobtrusively, allowing Darrien the choice to confront or avoid the topic.

"Y-yeah, that would be nice," Darrien said. Obi-Wan motioned towards a bench close to them, but Darrien shook his head 'no.' "I don't feel like sitting. I don't think I could talk if I did that—I would just feel too exhausted, and would only want to sit there and never get up again. I know that it's not entirely my fault for what happened to my parents, but in some ways, it is. Yeah, so my dad pounded on me and my mom, and my mom in turn took her anger out on me, but still…I don't know what came over me that one day.

"I must have been four or something at the time, and when my parents started to yell at me, stopping their own argument like they sometimes did to gang up on me… They weren't even hitting me," Darrien said softly, "It wasn't as if it was the worse I'd ever experienced. Yet, something about that day made me snap. I was suddenly screaming. All these pent up emotions inside of me, all this frustration and anger and hate, were suddenly pouring out of my mouth, and I just wanted to _hurt_ them so bad—and I was hurting myself in the process, but I didn't care. And then, suddenly—they died. I know now that what I did was a 'Force Scream,' and one of the moves a Dark Jedi will often use when frustrated, but I didn't know that then. All I knew was that my problems were suddenly solved. But before I could even feel relieved, I realized that I now had nowhere to go, no way to find food, no way to survive.

"I don't know how, but by some miracle I found my way here. Still to this day, though, I sometimes wonder if I should have died in that house too, with those horrible people—if maybe I'm a horrible person myself." Darrien looked down at his clenched fists. "I don't talk a lot because I don't want to intrude upon these kids who _deserve_ to be here, good kids from nice families who just happened to share a unique ability. And…because I'm a little afraid of what might come out of my mouth again."

Obi-Wan's heart, which he had thought had turned to dust when he had given Yoda Anakin's schedule, told him of its weak but still functioning existence by swelling with the need to comfort this youngling. Darrien's need of human understanding reminded him that there were still reasons worth living and working for. "Darrien…" he started out, but whatever words he was going to say died in his mouth before they were even fully born. Expressions and clichés were useless—language was useless.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose a split-second before Darrien rushed at Obi-Wan, giving him an unexpected hug. Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around the child, 'shhh'ing him and trying to calm his sobbing by rubbing his back comfortingly. There was a slight rustling noise as Darrien buried his face further into Obi-Wan's ratty, coarse Jedi tunic.

"Darrien, I—" and suddenly Obi-Wan stopped, mouth open in surprise. Eyes wide, he pushed Darrien away. The child stared at him sullenly, and not a tear-streak was to be found on his face. Obi-Wan lifted a hand to his chest, where the pain was being emitted. His fingers came away a sooty black.

"I always hated you," Darrien said coldly, suddenly sounding more like the person Obi-Wan was familiar with. The hurt child was gone, the little boy who needed to talk and receive comfort. Darrien was standing in front of him, the true Darrien. The mask he had worn just now—a child feeling guilt—and the mask he had worn almost all his life—the silent boy who worked hard to be a Jedi—were suddenly melted off in a passionate fit of heat and flames. This Darrien was neither childish like the first mask, nor as silent and controlled as the second.

This Darrien was—Darrien.

"I hated that you had so much power in this Temple, ruling us like a tyrant—just like my mom and dad. Palpatine told me about you, about what to expect from you. He was the one to find me, after I had killed my parents. He told me that he had sensed my strength when I had used the Dark Side, and that with practice I could become powerful." Darrien was arrogant, proud of this fact. His brown eyes flashed, quick intelligence and quicker savagery darting in their depths like piranhas.

"He told me that all I had to do was prove that I could kill a Jedi, and he would teach me the ways of the Sith. He told me that the powers of a Sith stretches even into death, and that if he should die he would still be able to whisper their secrets to me in the dark. He showed me your pathetic Temple, and told me that if I killed you, I would prove myself. Well, I have! I have defeated a great Jedi Master!

"Jedi are so pathetically easy to deceive—all it took was one conversation on my part to make Carra unable to think of anything other than those storage closets. The mutt would have led me there himself—probably handing me the keys on the spot—if I had asked, he idolized me so much, but why get directly involved when other options existed, I thought. The only one who had any suspicions of me was Skraith, and well, we know what happened to him. Noble Skraith, dying for the greater good—and in repayment you allow me to deface his name, his actions, his words; you practically _asked_ me to do so with your questions. The third was not Darth Vader, but _me_."

Darrien's bragging was cut short when rapid footsteps were heard racing down the hallway. Fear peeked through the cracks on Darrien's resumed mask, and with a start the youngling raced away in the opposite direction, lightsaber turned off and quickly hidden in his tunic again. He never once looked back at Obi-Wan to see what happened to the man who had taken care of him, and who he in turn had killed. For all his boasting, Darrien was, in fact, a manipulator and a coward, and a child.

"Obi-Wan? Are you there?" Darth Vader asked as he rounded the bend. Then, with a strangled cry, he saw Obi-Wan's body curled up on the floor. Suddenly, the coldness of Darth Vader, his prepared speech that would somehow persuade Obi-Wan of his actions being for a greater cause, was gone. Anakin ran to Obi-Wan and lifted him up slightly, staring into his dazed eyes that still showed faint signs of life.

"Hello…Anakin," Obi-Wan said weakly, trying and failing to smile.

The lump in Anakin's throat kept him from replying.

* * *

"All right, you men remember what Darth Vader said! No one comes in or gets out of that Temple, you hear me?" Cody barked orders to the stormtroopers around him. Darth Vader was in a testy mood, and Commander Cody in no way wanted to aggravate the Emperor. Darth Vader had given him clear instructions that what went on in the Temple was private, and that he didn't want any disturbances. The stormtroopers were Darth Vader's way of making sure that nothing interfered with—well, whatever it was the malevolent dictator intended to do. Maybe Darth Vader was planning another slaughtering of the younglings in the Temple, and this time wanted to do it alone.

"Makes me wish I was in there. He's probably killing all those younglings, just like last time," Commander Appo said, uncannily saying what Cody thought. But then again, all clones coming from the same chain of DNA, certain eerie similarities were to be expected.

"I was the commander he chose for the job last time," Appo went on to say proudly, "and I only wished he'd let me join in on the fun this time. Though I'm wondering why he asked for _two_ commanders, each with their own respected troops, to be here. The job of securing this area only takes one." The way Appo said it made it clear who he thought was more capable of the job.

"He probably sent you because you're his 'favorite' commander—or so you like to say, anyways—and _me_ to keep _you_ in check. You get a little too trigger-happy at times." Cody wasn't exactly happy with this turn of events either.

Their slight argument might have escalated, had not a smooth voice interrupted their conversation. "Hello, Commander Cody, Commander Appo."

The two commanders, at the same time, turned to regard the newcomer distastefully. Neither liked the too-savvy, too-slick man. "Omega," Commander Cody acknowledged the acquaintance of Vader. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see how events unfold, is all," Omega said calmly. Unexpectedly, the two commanders felt guns aimed at their heads. "And if you keep your heads about you, you might get to witness how things play out also. Commander Cody, Commander Appo, I'd like you to meet Commander Keller and his men. We're here to add extra security to the grounds."

Omega smiled, pleased as a cat and power-hungry as a shark.

"Commander Keller, I'd like you to put Vader's beloved children into the Temple. Then, I'd like you to 'secure' the grounds by locking all the doors and windows. After that…" Omega's smile widened. "Burn the building to the ground."

"What!" Commander Appo said in a burst of anger. "You can't do that to Darth Vad—"

_Bang!_

"Commander Cody…" Omega turned to the other, still-living commander. "Do you have any complaints that you'd like to address to me before we proceed with securing the parameters?"

Cody looked at the body of Appo, and at the bloody pulp where the head used to be, and shrugged, saying, "None, sir." He felt no true allegiances to his leader. His own survival was foremost in his mind. His genes did come from a bounty hunter, after all.

Omega gave a small chuckle. His blue durasteel eyes and black hair seemed to gleam with an inner sheen brought about by his anticipation and excitement. "Smart man, Commander Cody. Commander Keller?"

The other commander jumped to attention like a well-trained pup. "Sir?"

"You know what to do."

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

Anakin cradled Obi-Wan's head in his arms. It no longer mattered that his heart hurt from Obi-Wan's betrayal of him. Obi-Wan was slipping out of his grasps, second by second, and all Anakin could think of was that there had to be some way to save the dying man—some sort of dark trick of the Force that was a cure-all, fix-all solution. Maybe—maybe if he used one of those little children-monsters as a sacrifice…

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin choked out, "Hang on, okay? I'll find a way to fix you, to heal you. Just hold on for a little longer." He clutched Obi-Wan to his chest tighter.

"Anakin…it's too late." There was humor in Obi-Wan's voice, though it was faint underneath all the pain. "You never did know when to quit."

"I—I came here, planning on forcing you to see my point of view. I knew that I was going to hurt you, but I figured that you'd realize sooner or later that I'd done it for your own good, but now…there's nothing really to say, is there? I refuse to accept that you're dying, but still, all the same—please, just tell me once more that…that you love me."

"Anakin…" Obi-Wan sighed, and it hurt his chest to do so. He knew that he had precious few minutes left to live. "You know the answer to that question."

"Just—just tell me anyways. I need to hear it from you."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and said quietly, almost regretfully, "I am a Jedi foremost."

"No—no you're not!" Anakin cried out, the despairing sounds being ripped out of his throat, "You're not a Jedi at all!"

"I am a Jedi foremost—but even Jedi can learn to love," Obi-Wan concluded, opening his eyes to smile weakly at the crying Sith Lord. His hand found Anakin's and intertwined their fingers. His eyes stared right into Anakin's murky blue eyes—full of turbulent and choppy waves—and in their green depths were a million sentences that had never been spoken, that could never be spoken now.

Then the gaze slipped off to the side, staring unfocused at some point beyond Anakin's head. All the intensity in those eyes, all the unsaid words, dissipated into nothing. The moss green eyes gained a soft, slick gleam, an inner light that only entered the body once. It gave the face one final spark of brilliance, the beauty of a dying star, before inviting its fellow companion in, Death. "The Force is calling me. Goodbye, Anakin, this is the end…and the beginning."

Staring beyond the distraught Anakin, Obi-Wan died with a small smile on his face. It was a mysterious and disturbing thing, this gentle smile that spoke of knowledge the living were not privy to, of understanding that the living could not grasp. Anakin could not stand the look of those still luminescent eyes and closed them by sliding his hand down the motionless face, letting two calloused fingers draw down the eyelids to cover those earthy green eyes one last time.

* * *

The Temple burned an angry, accusing red. The fire was a snarling tiger, spitting and hissing and lashing out at anything it touched. The beast's tail twitched angrily, showering the walls with fire flecks in its agitation. Its orange and red coat ruffled in the wind, glossy and jagged and terribly beautiful. It greedily sank its fangs into the building. It licked the ceiling with its rough, unforgiving tongue and dragged its nails across the walls. It prowled the halls, ever growing larger and ever growing fiercer, becoming more and more wild and savage. Pure impulse, it had no sense of mercy, no sense of right or wrong, of what humans deemed 'morals.' Survival was all it knew, and if the tiger stopped feeding it knew instinctively that it would die. So it consumed, and consumed, and consumed. It gorged itself greedily on support beams, on easy-burning delicacies of paper and carpet. In its gluttony it grew larger, belly swelling and burning with an intense, skin-scorching heat.

The Temple, hollowed out by this hungry parasitical beast, began to crumble. First, only a single wall gave out. As if encouraged by this sign of faltering, entire sections of ceiling began to collapse, too tired to keep their rigid stance. Walls slumped down in defeat, crumbling as the fire tiger prowled restlessly through the air-depraved corridors in search of fresh oxygen and fuel.

Commander Keller watched the fire silently. He was fearful, yet in awe, of this monster. There was almost an inspired feeling in its devastating destruction, how the fire flickered upwards in curls and blackened the building slowly. The five spires of the Temple were slowly, gracefully, crumbling as the fire climbed higher, racing upwards and upwards to the sky. Black smoke filled the air, filled his lungs. It got in his eyes and made them water. Yet he could not turn away from this almighty, artistic demon. If he were to believe in Hell—which he didn't—he would think that its fortress would look something like this. All blackened and crumbling, half-standing and half-dying with flames burning fitfully.

He jumped when he heard a pounding sound nearby. His grip on his gun, before limp in his knowledge of how useless it was against this fiery foe, tightened as he aimed it at the metal door. Barely able to take a few steps forward, so great was the heat of the flames, he heard a faint sound on the other side. It sounded like…

"Children," Commander Keller gasped. His fingers itched nervously on the trigger. He didn't know if he should blast the door open or leave them. Their pleas and tiny fists, pounding on the scorching metal, horrified him. The door began to bubble in the heat, and he heard a shriek on the other side. He winced, knowing that some small hand had been charred.

He took another step forward, determined to—

"Stand down, Commander Keller," Omega commanded him sharply. Commander Keller reacted spontaneously without thought, instantly stopping. He turned to face his superior, hating himself for his absolute in obeying orders and hating this man before him for giving them.

Omega's pale, white hands were folded behind his back as his ice blue eyes calmly surveyed the damage. His black hair had red highlights in it, loaned to him by the radiant fire. The demonic fire raging before him made his command pitiful, his strength weak. Though he stood straight, he appeared small before the power of this monstrous tiger. He was made of substances that the fire could melt in seconds—he was a creature that lived and died by seconds when compared to its vastness. His petty plans and plotting were insubstantial, his dreams vague, his worth little. He was a fragile creature, built up on letdowns. Yes, blood did pulse beneath a thin layer of skin, but when compared to the heat and passion of the fire he was already cold as a corpse.

When faced with this demon, Granta Omega, a person of power and prestige, money and stature, was stripped of all that raised him above society. He was nothing more or less than a man.

But when Commander Keller looked him in the eyes, he still couldn't help but shiver. When faced with an immortal foe—time, disease, natural elements—Omega became human. But when a _mortal_ being, susceptible to death, faced the resourceful man—well, he became something less of a man, and more of a monster.

"We live by our choices, Commander Keller, or we die by them. I don't know how strong the will to live flows through you, but I suppose now is as good a time as ever to figure out." Omega raised a charcoal black eyebrow, challenging Commander Keller with the look in his blue durasteel eyes. "You can either burn now, or delay the inevitable."

Commander Keller stood down.


End file.
